she assured
Bell that men never recognised the hunger and thirst after letters
which women feel when away from those whom they love.

Then they heard at the Small House that the squire had gone away from
Allington. During the last few days Bernard had not been much with
them, and now they heard the news, not through their cousin, but
from Hopkins. "I really can't undertake to say, Miss Bell, where the
master's gone to. It's not likely the master'd tell me where he was
going to; not unless it was about seeds, or the likes of that."

"He has gone very suddenly," said Bell.

"Well, miss, I've nothing to say to that. And why shouldn't he go
sudden if he likes? I only know he had his gig, and went to the
station. If you was to bury me alive I couldn't tell you more."

"I should like to try," said Lily as they walked away. "He is such a
cross old thing. I wonder whether Bernard has gone with my uncle."
And then they thought no more about it.

On the day after that Bernard came down to the Small House, but he
said nothing by way of accounting for the squire's absence. "He is in
London, I know," said Bernard.

"I hope he'll call on Mr Crosbie," said Lily. But on this subject
Bernard said not a word. He did ask Lily whether she had heard from
Adolphus, in answer to which she replied, with as indifferent a voice
as she could assume, that she had not had a letter that morning.

"I shall be angry with him if he's not a good correspondent," said
Mrs Dale, when she and Lily were alone together.

"No, mamma, you mustn't be angry with him. I won't let you be angry
with him. Please to remember he's my lover and not yours."

"But I can see you when you watch for the postman."

"I won't watch for the postman any more if it makes you have bad
thoughts about him. Yes, they are bad thoughts. I won't have you
think that he doesn't do everything that is right."

On the next morning the postman brought a letter, or rather a note,
and Lily at once saw that it was from Crosbie. She had contrived to
intercept it near the back door, at which the postman called, so that
her mother should not watch her watchings, nor see her disappointment
if none should come. "Thank you, Jane," she said, very calmly, when
the eager, kindly girl ran to her with the little missive; and she
walked off to some solitude, trying to hide her impatience. The note
had seemed so small that it amazed her; but when she opened it the
contents amazed her more. There