Trevelyan. Between the two
sisters there had been, of course, some discussion on the matter. It
was impossible that it should be allowed to pass without it; but such
discussions always resulted in an assertion on the part of Nora that
she would not be scolded. Mrs. Trevelyan was very tender with her,
and made no attempt to scold her,--tried, at last, simply to console
her; but Nora was so continually at work scolding herself, that every
word spoken to her on the subject of Mr. Glascock's visit seemed to
her to carry with it a rebuke.

But on the second day she herself accosted Priscilla Stanbury. "Come
into the garden," she said, when they two were for a moment alone
together; "I want to speak to you." Priscilla, without answering,
folded up her work and put on her hat. "Come down to the green walk,"
said Nora. "I was savage to you last night, and I want to beg your
pardon."

"You were savage," said Priscilla, smiling, "and you shall have my
pardon. Who would not pardon you any offence, if you asked it?"

"I am so miserable!" she said.

"But why?"

"I don't know. I can't tell. And it is of no use talking about it
now, for it is all over. But I ought not to have been cross to you,
and I am very sorry."

"That does not signify a straw; only so far, that when I have been
cross, and have begged a person's pardon,--which I don't do as often
as I ought,--I always feel that it begets kindness. If I could help
you in your trouble I would."

"You can't fetch him back again."

"You mean Mr. Glascock. Shall I go and try?"

Nora smiled and shook her head. "I wonder what he would say if you
asked him. But if he came I should do the same thing."

"I do not in the least know what you have done, my dear. I only see
that you mope about, and are more down in the mouth than any one
ought to be, unless some great trouble has come."

"A great trouble has come."

"I suppose you have had your choice,--either to accept your lover or
to reject him."

"No; I have not had my choice."

"It seems to me that no one has dictated to you; or, at least, that
you have obeyed no dictation."

"Of course, I can't explain it to you. It is impossible that I
should."

"If you mean that you regret what you have done because you have been
false to the man, I can sympathise with you. No one has ever a right
to be false, and if you are repenting a falsehood, I will willingly
help you to eat your ashes and to wear your sackcloth. But if you