s to
herself,--though she was breaking her heart,--that there really
existed for her the slightest cause of grief. But why had he been so
stern to her? Why had he gone out of his way to be uncivil to her? He
had called her "dainty," meaning to imply by the epithet that she was
one of the butterflies of the day, caring for nothing but sunshine
and an opportunity of fluttering her silly wings. She had understood
well what he meant. Of course he was right to be cold to her if
his heart was cold, but he need not have insulted her by his
ill-concealed rebukes. Had he been kind to her, he might have rebuked
her as much as he liked. She quite appreciated the delightful
intimacy of a loving word of counsel from the man she loved,--how
nice it is, as it were, to play at marriage, and to hear beforehand
something of the pleasant weight of gentle marital authority. But
there had been nothing of that in his manner to her. He had told her
that she was dainty,--and had so told it her, as she thought, that
she might learn thereby, that under no circumstances would he have
any other tale to tell her. If he had no other tale, why had he not
been silent? Did he think that she was subject to his rebuke merely
because she lived under his mother's roof? She would soon shew him
that her residence at the Clock House gave him no such authority over
her. Then, amidst her wrath and despair, she cried herself asleep.

While she was sobbing in bed, he was sitting, with a short, black
pipe stuck into his mouth, on the corner of the churchyard wall
opposite. Before he had left the house he and Priscilla had spoken
together for some minutes about Mrs. Trevelyan. "Of course she was
wrong to see him," said Priscilla. "I hesitate to wound her by so
saying, because she has been ill-used,--though I did tell her so,
when she asked me. She could have lost nothing by declining his
visit."

"The worst of it is that Trevelyan swears that he will never receive
her again if she received him."

"He must unswear it," said Priscilla, "that is all. It is out of the
question that a man should take a girl from her home, and make her
his wife, and then throw her off for so little of an offence as this.
She might compel him by law to take her back."

"What would she get by that?"

"Little enough," said Priscilla; "and it was little enough she got by
marrying him. She would have had bread, and meat, and raiment without
being married, I suppose."

"But it was a l