er leave me. I am far
from well, and my head is throbbing."

He came up and took her hand, but she snatched it away from him.
"Laura," he said, "do not let us quarrel."

"I certainly shall quarrel if such insinuations are repeated."

"I made no insinuation."

"Do not repeat them. That is all."

He was cowed and left her, having first attempted to get out of the
difficulty of his position by making much of her alleged illness, and
by offering to send for Dr. Macnuthrie. She positively refused to see
Dr. Macnuthrie, and at last succeeded in inducing him to quit the
room.

This had occurred about the end of November, and on the 20th of
December Violet Effingham reached Loughlinter. Life in Mr. Kennedy's
house had gone quietly during the intervening three weeks, but not
very pleasantly. The name of Phineas Finn had not been mentioned.
Lady Laura had triumphed; but she had no desire to acerbate her
husband by any unpalatable allusion to her victory. And he was quite
willing to let the subject die away, if only it would die. On some
other matters he continued to assert himself, taking his wife to
church twice every Sunday, using longer family prayers than she
approved, reading an additional sermon himself every Sunday evening,
calling upon her for weekly attention to elaborate household
accounts, asking for her personal assistance in much local visiting,
initiating her into his favourite methods of family life in the
country, till sometimes she almost longed to talk again about Phineas
Finn, so that there might be a rupture, and she might escape. But her
husband asserted himself within bounds, and she submitted, longing
for the coming of Violet Effingham. She could not write to her father
and beg to be taken away, because her husband would read a sermon to
her on Sunday evening.

To Violet, very shortly after her arrival, she told her whole story.
"This is terrible," said Violet. "This makes me feel that I never
will be married."

"And yet what can a woman become if she remain single? The curse is
to be a woman at all."

"I have always felt so proud of the privileges of my sex," said
Violet.

"I never have found them," said the other; "never. I have tried to
make the best of its weaknesses, and this is what I have come to! I
suppose I ought to have loved some man."

"And did you never love any man?"

"No;--I think I never did,--not as people mean when they speak of
love. I have felt that I would consent to b