hould she do now? Ada
would yield--would give him up--would retire into the background, and
would declare that Edith should be made happy, but would never lift
up her head again. And she--she herself--could also give him up,
and would lift up her head again. She knew that she had a power of
bearing sorrow, and going on with the work of the world, in spite of
all troubles, which Ada did not possess. It might, therefore, have
all been settled, but that the man was stubborn, and would not be
changed. "Of course, he is a man," said Edith to herself, as she put
the mutton down. "Of course he must have it all to please himself. Of
course he will be selfish."

"I thought you were never coming with our morsel of dinner," said Mr.
Jones.

"Here is the morsel of dinner; but I could have dished it in half the
time if Captain Clayton had not been there."

"Of course I am the offender," said he, as he sat down. "And now I
have forgotten to bring the potatoes." So he started off, and met
Florian at the door coming in with them. Mr. Jones carved the mutton,
and Captain Clayton was helped first. In a boycotted house you will
always find that the gentlemen are helped before the ladies. It
is a part of the principle of boycotting that women shall subject
themselves.

Captain Clayton, after his first little stir about the potatoes, ate
his dinner in perfect silence. That which had taken place upset him
more completely than the rifles of two or three Landleaguers. Mr.
Jones was also silent. He was a man at the present moment nearly
overwhelmed by his cares. And Ada, too, was silent. As Edith looked
at her furtively she began to fear that her pet suspected something.
There was a look of suffering in her face which Edith could read,
though it was not plain enough written there to be legible to others.
Her father and Florian had no key by which to read it, and Captain
Clayton never allowed his eyes to turn towards Ada's face. But it was
imperative on both that they should not all fall into some feeling of
special sorrow through their silence. "It is just one week more," she
said, "before you men must be at Galway."

"Only one week," said Florian.

"It will be much better to have it over," said the father. "I do not
think you need come back at all, but start at once from Galway. Your
sisters can bring what things you want, and say good-bye at Athenry."

"My poor Florian," said Edith.

"I shan't mind it so much when I get to England,