ted lover, who deserves to have been
accepted, should devote every hour at his command to his mistress.
But Mr. Gibson had of late been so chary of his presence at
Heavitree, that Camilla could not but have known that he took no
delight in coming thither. She had acknowledged this to herself; but
she had consoled herself with the reflection that marriage would make
this all right. Mr. Gibson was not the man to stray from his wife,
and she could trust herself to obtain a sufficient hold upon her
husband hereafter, partly by the strength of her tongue, partly by
the ascendency of her spirit, and partly, also, by the comforts which
she would provide for him. She had not doubted but that it would be
all well when they should be married;--but how if, even now, there
should be no marriage for her? Camilla French had never heard of
Creusa and of Jason, but as she paced her mother's drawing-room that
morning she was a Medea in spirit. If any plot of that kind should be
in the wind, she would do such things that all Devonshire should hear
of her wrongs and of her revenge!

In the meantime Mr. Gibson was sitting by Arabella's bedside, while
Mrs. French was trying to make herself busy in her own chamber, next
door. There had been a reading of some chapter of the Bible,--or of
some portion of a chapter. And Mr. Gibson, as he read, and Arabella,
as she listened, had endeavoured to take to their hearts and to make
use of the word which they heard. The poor young woman, when she
begged her mother to send to her the man who was so dear to her, did
so with some half-formed condition that it would be good for her to
hear a clergyman read to her. But now the chapter had been read, and
the book was back in Mr. Gibson's pocket, and he was sitting with
his hand on the bed. "She is so very arrogant," said Bella,--"and
so domineering." To this Mr. Gibson made no reply. "I'm sure I have
endeavoured to bear it well, though you must have known what I have
suffered, Thomas. Nobody can understand it so well as you do."

"I wish I had never been born," said Mr. Gibson, tragically.

"Don't say that, Thomas,--because it's wicked."

"But I do. See all the harm I have done;--and yet I did not mean it."

"You must try and do the best you can now. I am not saying what that
should be. I am not dictating to you. You are a man, and, of course,
you must judge for yourself. But I will say this. You shouldn't do
anything just because it is the easiest. I d