uld ever have married, for he
wants nothing that a wife can do for him. He wanted a boy to come after
him in the estate, and now that glory has been taken from him. Mrs.
Clavering, I often wish that I could die."

It would be bootless here to repeat the words of wise and loving counsel
with which the elder of the two ladies endeavored to comfort the
younger, and to make her understand what were the duties which still
remained to her, and which, if they were rightly performed, would, in
their performance, soften the misery of her lot. Lady Clavering listened
with that dull, useless attention which on such occasions sorrow always
gives to the prudent counsels of friendship; but she was thinking ever
and always of her husband, and watching the moment of his expected
return. In her heart she wished that he might not come on that evening.
At last, at half-past nine, she exerted herself to send away her
visitor.

"He will be here soon, if he comes to-night," Lady Clavering said, "and
it will be better that he should find me alone."

"Will it be better?"

"Yes, yes. Cannot you see how he would frown and shake his head if you
were here? I would sooner be alone when he comes. Good-night. You have
been very kind to me; but you are always kind. Things are done kindly
always at your house, because there is so much love there. You will
write to Julia for me. Good-night." Then Mrs. Clavering kissed her and
went, thinking as she walked home in the dark to the rectory, how much
she had to be thankful in that these words had been true which her poor
neighbor had spoken. Her house was full of love.

Chapter XXIII

Sir Hugh's Return

For the next half hour Lady Clavering sat alone listening with eager ear
for the sound of her husband's wheels, and at last she had almost told
herself that the hour for his coming had gone by, when she heard the
rapid grating on the gravel as the dog-cart was driven up to the door.
She ran out on to the corridor, but her heart sank within her as she did
so, and she took tightly hold of the balustrade to support herself. For
a moment she had thought of running down to meet him; of trusting to the
sadness of the moment to produce in him, if it were but for a minute,
something of tender solicitude; but she remembered that the servants
would be there, and knew that he would not be soft before them. She
remembered also that the housekeeper had received her instructions, and
she feared to disarr