f her mother
being _de trop_, which gave her a momentary pang. But after all, what
did it matter? It was not her fault, poor child. I have known a loving
daughter in whose mind there was a sentiment almost of relief amid her
deep grief when her tender mother died. Could such a thing be possible?
It was; because after then, however miserable she might be, there was no
conflict over her, no rending of the strained heart both ways. A woman
who has known life learns to understand and forgive a great many things;
and Mrs. Dennistoun forgave her Elinor, her only child, for whose
happiness she had lived, in that she was almost glad when her mother
went away.

Such things, however, do not make a lonely little house in the country
more cheerful, or tend to make it easier to content one's self with the
Rector's family, and the good old, simple-minded, retired people, with
their little complaints, yet general peacefulness, and incompetence to
understand what tragedy was. They thought on the whole their neighbour
at the Cottage ought to be very thankful that she had got her daughter
well, or, if not very well, at least fashionably, married, with good
connections and all that, which are always of use in the long run. It
was better than marrying a poor curate, which was almost the only chance
a girl had on Windyhill.

It was a little hard upon Mrs. Dennistoun, however, that she lost not
only Elinor, but John, who had been so good about coming down when she
was all alone at first. Of course, during the season, a young rising
man, with engagements growing upon him every day, was very unlikely to
have his Saturdays to Mondays free. So many people live out of town
nowadays, or, at least, have a little house somewhere to which they go
from Saturday to Monday, taking their friends with them. This was no
doubt the reason why John never came; and yet the poor lady suspected
another reason, and though she no longer laughed as she had done on
that occasion when the Honourable Phil gave her her dismissal, a smile
would come over her face sometimes when she reflected that with her two
thousand pounds she had purchased the hostility of both Philip and John.

John Tatham was indeed exceedingly angry with her for the weakness with
which she had yielded to Phil Compton's arguments, though indeed he knew
nothing of Phil Compton's arguments, nor whether they had been exercised
at all on the woman who was first of all Elinor's mother and ready to
sa