its
divinity's least wish, and she argued that if Amherst had really loved
her he could not so lightly have disturbed the foundations of her world.
And so her tormented thoughts, perpetually circling on themselves,
reverted once more to their central grievance--the failure of her
marriage. If her own love had died out it would have been much
simpler--she was surrounded by examples of the mutual evasion of a
troublesome tie. There was Blanche Carbury, for instance, with whom she
had lately struck up an absorbing friendship...it was perfectly clear
that Blanche Carbury wondered how much more she was going to stand! But
it was the torment of Bessy's situation that it involved a radical
contradiction, that she still loved Amherst though she could not forgive
him for having married her.

Perhaps what she most suffered from was his too-prompt acceptance of the
semi-estrangement between them. After nearly three years of marriage she
had still to learn that it was Amherst's way to wrestle with the angel
till dawn, and then to go about his other business. Her own mind could
revolve in the same grievance as interminably as a squirrel in its
wheel, and her husband's habit of casting off the accepted fact seemed
to betoken poverty of feeling. If only he had striven a little harder to
keep her--if, even now, he would come back to her, and make her feel
that she was more to him than those wretched mills!

When she turned her mare toward Lynbrook, the longing to see Amherst was
again uppermost. He had not written for weeks--she had been obliged to
tell Maria Ansell that she knew nothing of his plans, and it mortified
her to think that every one was aware of his neglect. Yet, even now, if
on reaching the house she should find a telegram to say that he was
coming, the weight of loneliness would be lifted, and everything in life
would seem different....

Her high-strung mare, scenting the homeward road, and excited by the
fantastic play of wayside lights and shadows, swept her along at a wild
gallop with which the fevered rush of her thoughts kept pace, and when
she reached the house she dropped from the saddle with aching wrists and
brain benumbed.

She entered by a side door, to avoid meeting any one, and ran upstairs
at once, knowing that she had barely time to dress for dinner. As she
opened the door of her sitting-room some one rose from the chair by the
fire, and she stood still, facing her husband....

It was the moment bot