e Rowan with the poker,--Mrs.
Ray started from the cottage on her mission into Baslehurst. She was
going to see her daughter, Mrs. Prime, at Miss Pucker's lodgings, and
felt sure that the object of her visit was to be a further discourse
on the danger of admitting that wolf Rowan into the sheepfold at
Bragg's End. She would willingly have avoided the conference had she
been able to do so, knowing well that Mrs. Prime would get the better
of her in words when called upon to talk without having Rachel at her
back. And indeed she was not happy in her mind. It had been conceded
at the cottage as an understood thing that Rachel was to have this
man as her lover; but what, if after all, the man didn't mean to be a
lover in the proper sense; and what, if so meaning, he should still
turn out to be a lover of a bad sort,--a worldly, good-for-nothing,
rakish lover? "I wonder," says the wicked man in the play, "I wonder
any man alive would ever rear a daughter!" Mrs. Ray knew nothing of
the play, and had she done so, she would not have repeated such a
line. But the hardness of the task which Providence had allotted
to her struck her very forcibly on this morning. Rachel was dearer
to her than aught else in the world. For Rachel's happiness she
would have made any sacrifice. In Rachel's presence, and sweet
smile, and winning caresses was the chief delight of her existence.
Nevertheless, in these days the possession of Rachel was hardly a
blessing to her. The responsibility was so great; and, worse than
that as regarded her own comfort, the doubts were so numerous; and
then, they recurred over and over again, as often as they were
settled!

"I'm sure I don't know what she can have to say to me." Mrs. Ray, as
she spoke, was tying on her bonnet, and Rachel was standing close to
her with her light summer shawl.

"It will be the old story, mamma, I'm afraid; my terrible iniquity
and backslidings, because I went to the ball, and because I won't go
to Miss Pucker's. She'll want you to say that I shall go, or else be
sent to bed without my supper."

"That's nonsense, Rachel. Dorothea knows very well that I can't make
you go." Mrs. Ray was wont to become mildly petulant when things went
against her.

"But, mamma, you don't want me to go?"

"I don't suppose it's about Miss Pucker at all. It's about that other
thing."

"You mean Mr. Rowan."

"Yes, my dear. I'm sure I don't know what's for the best. When she
gets me to herself she d