t come here any more, my dear," said Mrs.
Outhouse.

"You are quite right, aunt. He ought not to come here."

"I am so glad that you agree with me."

"I agree with you altogether. I think I was bound to see him when he
asked to see me; but the thing is altogether out of the question. I
don't think he'll come any more, aunt." Then Mrs. Outhouse was quite
satisfied that no harm had been done.

A month had now passed since anything had been heard at St.
Diddulph's from Mr. Trevelyan, and it seemed that many months might
go on in the same dull way. When Mrs. Trevelyan first found herself
in her uncle's house, a sum of two hundred pounds had been sent to
her; and since that she had received a letter from her husband's
lawyer saying that a similar amount would be sent to her every three
months, as long as she was separated from her husband. A portion
of this she had given over to Mr. Outhouse; but this pecuniary
assistance by no means comforted that unfortunate gentleman in his
trouble. "I don't want to get into debt," he said, "by keeping a lot
of people whom I haven't the means to feed. And I don't want to board
and lodge my nieces and their family at so much a head. It's very
hard upon me either way." And so it was. All the comfort of his home
was destroyed, and he was driven to sacrifice his independence by
paying his tradesmen with a portion of Mrs. Trevelyan's money. The
more he thought of it all, and the more he discussed the matter with
his wife, the more indignant they became with the truant husband. "I
can't believe," he said, "but what Mr. Bideawhile could make him come
back, if he chose to do his duty."

"But they say that Mr. Trevelyan is in Italy, my dear."

"And if I went to Italy, might I leave you to starve, and take my
income with me?"

"He doesn't leave her quite to starve, my dear."

"But isn't a man bound to stay with his wife? I never heard of such a
thing,--never. And I'm sure that there must be something wrong. A man
can't go away and leave his wife to live with her uncle and aunt. It
isn't right."

"But what can we do?"

Mr. Outhouse was forced to acknowledge that nothing could be done. He
was a man to whom the quiescence of his own childless house was the
one pleasure of his existence. And of that he was robbed because this
wicked madman chose to neglect all his duties, and leave his wife
without a house to shelter her. "Supposing that she couldn't have
come here, what then?" said Mr. O