would surely accept the money on her lover's behalf. He too had been
annoyed at the persistency of her double refusal. But it had been
very far from his purpose to drive his girl from his house, or to
subject her to the misery of such reproaches as his wife had cast
upon her.

"My dear," he had said, "there is no necessity for anything of the
kind. I and your mother are only anxious for your welfare. I think
that you should take your uncle's money, if not for your own sake,
then for the sake of him to whom we all hope that you will soon be
married. But putting that aside you are as well entitled to remain
here as your sisters, and, until you are married, here will be your
home."

There was comfort in this, some small comfort, but it did not tend
to create pleasant intercourse between Isabel and her step-mother.
Mrs Brodrick was a woman who submitted herself habitually to her
husband, and intended to obey him, but one who nevertheless would
not be deterred from her own little purposes. She felt herself to be
ill-used by Isabel's presence in the house. Many years ago Isabel had
been taken away, and she had been given to understand that Isabel
was removed for ever. There was to be no more expense, no more
trouble,--there should be no more jealousies in regard to Isabel.
The old uncle had promised to do everything, and that sore had been
removed from her life. Now Isabel had come back again, and insisted
on remaining there,--so unnecessarily! Now again there were those
boots to be bought at Jackson's, and all those other increased
expenditures which another back, another head, another mouth, and
another pair of feet must create. And then it was so palpable that
Hereford thought much of Isabel, but thought little or nothing of
her own girls. Such a one as Mrs Brodrick was sure to make herself
unpleasant in circumstances such as these.

"Isabel," she said to her one day, "I didn't say anything about you
being turned out of the house."

"Who has said that you did, mother?"

"You shouldn't have gone to your father and talked about going out as
a housemaid."

"I told papa that if he thought it right, I would endeavour to earn
my bread."

"You told him that I had complained about you being here."

"So you did. I had to tell him so, or I could not explain my purpose.
Of course I am a burden. Every human being who eats and wears clothes
and earns nothing is a burden. And I know that this is thought of the
more because i