ching people things;
nothing real."

There was a moment's silence.

"Hester is my sister," said Mr. Gresley, "and I am fond of her in spite
of all, and she has no one to look to for help and guidance but me. I am
her only near relation. That is why I feel so much the way she
disregards all I say. She does not realize that it is for her sake I
speak."

Mr. Gresley thought he was sincere, because he was touched.

Mrs. Gresley's cheek burned. That faithful, devoted little heart, which
lived only for her husband and children, could not brook--_what?_ That
her priest should be grieved and disregarded? Or was it any affection
for and interest in another woman that it could not brook?

"I have made up my mind," said Mr. Gresley, "to forbid her most solemnly
when she comes back to-morrow to publish that book."

"She does not come back to-morrow, but this evening," said the young
wife; and pushed by some violent, nameless feeling which was too strong
for her, she added, "She will not obey you. When has she ever listened
to what you say? She will laugh at you, James. She always laughs at you.
And the book will be published all the same."

"It shall not," said Mr. Gresley, coloring darkly. "I shall not allow
it."

"You can't prevent it," said Mrs. Gresley, her breath coming quickly.
She was not thinking of the book at all, but of the writer. What was a
book, one more or one less? It was her duty to speak the truth to her
husband. His sister, whom he thought so much of, had no respect for his
opinion, and he ought to know it. Mr. Gresley did know it, but he felt
no particular satisfaction in his wife's presentment of the fact.

"It is no use saying I can't prevent it," he said, coldly, letting his
arm fall by his side. He was no longer thinking of the book either, but
of the disregard of his opinion, nay, of his authority, which had long
gravelled him in his sister's attitude towards him. "I shall use my
authority when I see fit, and if I have so far used persuasion rather
than authority, it was only because, in my humble opinion, it was the
wisest course."

"It has always failed," said Mrs. Gresley, stung by the slackening of
his arm. Yes. In spite of the new baby, she would rather have a hundred
a year less than have this woman in the house. The wife ought to come
first. By first, Mrs. Gresley meant without a second. She had this
morning seen Emma laying Hester's clean clothes on her bed, just
returned from a distant