entiment, and trundled off to the "Red
Lion" all the more.

So then at last she spoke her mind, and asked him how he could lower
himself so, and afflict her.

"Oh!" said he, doggedly, "this house is too cold for me now. My mate is
priest-rid. Plague on the knave that hath put coldness 'twixt thee and
me."

Mrs. Gaunt froze visibly, and said no more at that time.

One bit of sunshine remained in the house, and shone brighter than ever
on its chilled master,--shone through two black, seducing eyes.

Some three months before the date we have now reached, Caroline Ryder's
two boxes were packed and corded ready to go next day. She had quietly
persisted in her resolution to leave, and Mrs. Gaunt, though secretly
angry, had been just and magnanimous enough to give her a good
character.

Now female domestics are like the little birds; if that great hawk,
their mistress, follows them about, it is a deadly grievance; but if she
does not, they follow her about, and pester her with idle questions,
and invite the beak and claws of petty tyranny and needless
interference.

So, the afternoon before she was to leave, Caroline Ryder came to her
mistress's room on some imaginary business. She was not there. Ryder,
forgetting that it did not matter a straw, proceeded to hunt her
everywhere; and at last ran out, with only her cap on, to "the Dame's
Haunt," and there she was; but not alone: she was walking up and down
with Brother Leonard. Their backs were turned, and Ryder came up behind
them. Leonard was pacing gravely, with his head gently drooping as
usual. Mrs. Gaunt was walking elastically, and discoursing with great
fire and animation.

Ryder glided after, noiseless as a serpent, more bent on wondering and
watching now than on overtaking; for inside the house her mistress
showed none of this charming vivacity.

Presently the keen black eyes observed a "trifle light as air" that made
them shine again.

She turned and wound herself amongst the trees, and disappeared. Soon
after she was in her own room, a changed woman. With glowing cheeks,
sparkling eyes, and nimble fingers, she uncorded her boxes, unpacked her
things, and placed them neatly in the drawers.

What more had she seen than I have indicated?

Only this: Mrs. Gaunt, in the warmth of discourse, laid her hand lightly
for a moment on the priest's shoulder. That was nothing, she had laid
the same hand on Ryder; for, in fact, it was a little womanly way she
had,