eving
him after all. For how, oh how, ye heavens, could the law punish one that
meant no harm and knew no evil? a question which minds more enlightened
than that of Lizzie have often asked in vain.

CHAPTER XLIII.

Lizzie had a tiresome argument with her grandmother that night, who
could not understand why she should be so bent on going into Highcombe
by the first train. To see Miss Chatty married, that was reasonable
enough; but Miss Chatty would not be married till eleven at the earliest,
perhaps later. Mrs. Bagley knew that gentlefolks ran it almost too late,
as late as was possible, which was the fashion, or else because they
didn't like to get up so early as poor folks,--and why should Lizzie
start by the seven o'clock train? But Lizzie was determined and got her
way, declaring that she would stay up all night and do her work before
she started sooner than not go. It would not have mattered much had she
done so, for there was no sleep for Lizzie that night. She had not any
certainty of being right to support her in what she was going to do. She
thought of disturbing all the wedding preparations, stopping the bride
with her veil on and the orange blossoms in her hair, and all the guests
assembled--for what? because of--one who made no claim, who would never
make any claim, who had not been heard of for more than six years. That
was the flaw which disturbed Lizzie. It was not quite out seven years.
Had that mystic period been accomplished she felt that she could have
left Chatty to the protection of God. But at the outside it was only six
and a half, and he _had_ heard of her through Lizzie herself--though
she inwardly resolved that no inducement on earth would make her appear
before judge and jury to tell that. No! she would rather fly than tell
it. And then her mind came back to the picture of the bride in her
glistening white silk or satin, with the veil over her head, and the
orange blossoms--to stop all that, to turn away the carriages from the
door, and set herself up as knowing better than a gentleman like Mr.
Cavendish, and perhaps making a fool of herself, and not being believed
or listened to after all!

These thoughts tormented Lizzie all through the night: she got up very
early, while it was still dark, and lighted the fire, and put everything
straight for her grandmother, and made herself a cup of tea, which she
needed much to settle her agitated nerves. Old Mrs. Bagley got up, too,
disturbed