ly go on for a week without
stopping there may be some hope for the crops yet."

The conversation buzzed up again, and Rachel turned instantly to Hugh,
before Mr. Harvey, leaning forward with his ring, had time to address
her.

Hugh alone saw what a superhuman effort it had been to her to overcome
her shrinking from mentioning, not her previous poverty, but her
personal experience. She had sacrificed her natural reserve, which he
could see was great; she had even set good taste at defiance to defend
Hester Gresley's book. Hugh had shuddered as he heard her speak. He felt
that he could not have obtruded himself on so mixed an assembly. Yet he
saw that it had cost her more to do so than it would have cost him.

He began to remember having heard people speak of an iron-master's
daughter, whose father had failed and died, and who, after several years
of dire poverty, had lately inherited a vast fortune from her father's
partner. It had been talked about at the time, a few months ago. This
must be she.

"You have a great affection for Miss Gresley," he said, in a low voice.

"I have," said Rachel, her lip still quivering. "But if I disliked her I
hope I should have said the same. Surely it is not necessary to love
the writer in order to defend the book."

Hugh was silent. He looked at her, and wished that she might always be
on his side.

"About two courses ago I was going to tell you," said Rachel, smiling,
"of one of my chief difficulties on my return to the civilized world and
'Society.' But now you have had an example of it. I am trying to cure
myself of the trick of becoming interested in conversation. I must learn
to use words as counters, not as coins. I need not disbelieve what I
say, but I must not speak of anything to which I attach value. I
perceive that to do this is an art and a means of defence from invasion.
But I, on the contrary, become interested, as you have just seen. I
forget that I am only playing a game, and I rush into a subject like a
bull into a china-shop, and knock about all the crockery until--as I am
not opposed by my native pitchfork--I suddenly return to my senses, and
discover that I have mistaken a game for real earnest."

"We were all in earnest five minutes ago," said Hugh; "at least, I was.
I could not bear to hear Miss Gresley patronized by all these failures
and amateurs. But, unless I am very much mistaken, you will find several
pitchforks laid up for you in the drawing-room."