more it would. If Mr. Tappitt began it first, it wasn't his
fault."

"But Rachel, my darling,--what can we do? If he has gone away we
cannot make him come back again."

"But he wrote almost immediately."

"And you are going to answer it;--are you not?"

"Yes;--but what sort of an answer, mamma? How can I expect that he
will ever want to see me again when I have written to him in that
way? I won't say anything about hoping that he's very well. If I may
not tell him that he's my own, own, own Luke, and that I love him
with all my heart, I'll bid him stay away and not trouble himself any
further. I wonder what he'll think of me when I write in that way!"

"If he's constant-hearted he'll wait a while and then he'll come back
again."

"Why should he come back when I've treated him in that way? What have
I got to give him? Mamma, you may write the letter yourself, and put
in it what you please."

"Mr. Comfort said that you had better write it."

"Mr. Comfort! I don't know why I'm to do all that Mr. Comfort tells
me," and then those other words of Mrs. Sturt's recurred to her,
"It's little I think of what a clergyman says unless it be out of a
pulpit." After that there was nothing further said for some minutes.
Mrs. Ray still sat on the sofa, and as she gazed upon the table
which stood in the middle of the room, she wiped her eyes with her
handkerchief. Rachel was now seated in a chair with her back almost
turned to her mother, and was beating with her impatient fingers on
the table. She was very angry,--angry even with her mother; and she
was half broken-hearted, truly believing that such a letter as that
which she was desired to write would estrange her lover from her for
ever. So they sat, and for a few minutes no word was spoken between
them.

"Rachel," said Mrs. Ray at last, "if wrong has been done, is it not
better that it should be undone?"

"What wrong have I done?" said Rachel, jumping up.

"It is I that have done it,--not you."

"No, mamma; you have done no wrong."

"I should have known more before I let him come here and encouraged
you to think of him. It has been my fault. My dear, will you not
forgive me?"

"Mamma, there has been no fault. There is nothing to forgive."

"I have made you unhappy, my child," and then Mrs. Ray burst out into
open tears.

"No, mamma, I won't be unhappy;--or if I am I will bear it." Then she
got up and threw her arms round her mother's neck, and embraced her.
"I