CHAPTER VI.
MRS. RAY GOES TO EXETER, AND MEETS A FRIEND.
Six weeks passed over them at Bragg's End, and nothing was heard ofLuke Rowan. Rachel's letter, a copy of which was given in our lastchapter, was duly sent away by the postman, but no answer to it cameto Bragg's End. It must, however, be acknowledged that it not onlyrequired no answer, but that it even refused to be answered. Rachelhad told her lover that he was not to correspond with her, and thatshe certainly would not write to him again. Having so said, she hadno right to expect an answer; and she protested over and over againthat she did expect none. But still she would watch, as she thoughtunseen, for the postman's coming; and her heart would sink within heras the man would pass the gate without calling. "He has taken me atmy word," she said to herself very bitterly. "I deserve nothing elsefrom him; but--but--but--" In those days she was ever silent andstern. She did all that her mother bade her, but she did little ornothing from love. There were no more banquets, with clotted creambrought over from Mrs. Sturt's. She would speak a word or two now andthen to Mrs. Sturt, who understood the whole case perfectly; but suchwords were spoken on chance occasions, for Rachel now never went overto the farm. Farmer Sturt's assistance had been offered to her; butwhat could the farmer do for her in such trouble as hers?
During the whole of these six weeks she did her household duties;but gradually she became slower in them and still more slow, andher mother knew that her disappointment was becoming the source ofpermanent misery. Rachel never said that she was ill; nor, indeed,of any special malady did she show signs: but gradually she becamethin and wan, her cheeks assumed a haggard look, and that aspect ofthe brow which her mother feared had become habitual to her. Mrs.Ray observed her closely in all that she did. She knew well of thosewatchings for the postman. She was always thinking of her child, and,after a while, longing that Luke Rowan might come back to them, witha heart almost as sore with longing as was that of Rachel herself.But what could she do? She could not bring him back. In all thatshe had done,--in giving her sanction to this lover, and again inwithdrawing it, she had been guided by the advice of her clergyman.Should she go again to him and beg him to restore that young man tothem? Ah! no; great as was her trust in her clergyman she knew thateven he could not do that for her.
During all these weeks hardly a word was spoken openly betweenthe mother and daughter about the matter that chiefly occupiedthe thoughts of them both. Luke Rowan's name was hardly mentionedbetween them. Once or twice some allusion was made to the subject ofthe brewery, for it was becoming generally known that the lawyerswere already at work on behalf of Rowan's claim; but even on suchoccasions as these Mrs. Ray found that her speech was stopped by theexpression of Rachel's eyes, and by those two lines which on suchoccasions would mark her forehead. In those days Mrs. Ray becameafraid of her younger daughter,--almost more so than she had everbeen afraid of the elder one. Rachel, indeed, never spoke as Mrs.Prime would sometimes speak. No word of scolding ever passed hermouth; and in all that she did she was gentle and observant. Butthere was ever on her countenance that look of reproach which bydegrees was becoming almost unendurable. And then her words duringthe day were so few! She was so anxious to sit alone in her own room!She would still read to her mother for some hours in the evening;but this reading was to her so manifestly a task, difficult anddistasteful!
It may be remembered that Mrs. Prime, with her lover, Mr. Prong, andher friend Miss Pucker, had promised to call at Bragg's End on theevening after Rachel's walk into Baslehurst. They did come as theyhad promised, about half an hour after Rachel's letter to Luke hadbeen carried away by the postman. They had come, and had remained atBragg's End for an hour, eating cake and drinking currant wine, butnot having, on the whole, what our American friends call a good timeof it. That visit had been terrible to Mrs. Ray. Rachel had sat therecold, hard, and speechless. Not only had she not asked Miss Puckerto take off her bonnet, but she had absolutely declined to speakto that lady. It was wonderful to her mother that she should thus,in so short a time, have become wilful, masterful, and resolved infollowing out her own purposes. Not one word on that occasion didshe speak to Miss Pucker; and Mrs. Prime, observing this, had grownblack and still blacker, till the horror of the visit had becometerrible to Mrs. Ray. Miss Pucker had grinned and smiled, and strivengallantly, poor woman, to make the best of it. She had declared howglad she had been to see Miss Rachel on the previous evening, and howwell Miss Rachel had looked, and had expressed quite voluminous hopesthat Miss Rachel would come to their Dorcas meetings. But to all thisRachel answered not a syllable. Now and then she addressed a wordor two to her sister. Now and then she spoke to her mother. When Mr.Prong specially turned himself to her, asking her some question, shewould answer him with one or two monosyllables, always calling himSir; but to Miss Pucker she never once opened her mouth. Mrs. Primebecame very angry,--very black and very angry; and the time of thevisit was a terrible time to Mrs. Ray.
But this visit is to be noticed in our story chiefly on account ofa few words which Mr. Prong found an opportunity of saying to Mrs.Ray respecting his proposed marriage. Mrs. Ray knew that there weredifficulties about the money, and was disposed to believe, andperhaps to hope, that the match would be broken off. But on thisoccasion Mr. Prong was very marked in his way of speaking to Mrs.Ray, as though everything were settled. Mrs. Ray was thoroughlyconvinced by this that it was so, and her former beliefs and possiblehopes were all dispersed. But then Mrs. Ray was easily convinced byany assertion. In thus speaking to his future mother-in-law he hadcontrived to turn his back round upon the other three ladies, so asto throw them together for the time, and thus make their positionthe more painful. It must be acknowledged that Rachel was capable ofsomething great, after her determined resistance to Miss Pucker'sblandishments under such circumstances as these.
"Mrs. Ray," Mr. Prong had said,--and as he spoke his voice was softwith mingled love and sanctity,--"I cannot let this moment passwithout expressing one word of what I feel at the prospect ofconnecting myself with your amiable family."
"I'm sure I'm much obliged," Mrs. Ray had answered.
"Of course I am aware that Dorothea has mentioned the matter to you."
"Oh yes; she has mentioned it, certainly."
"And therefore I should be remiss, both as regards duty and manners,if I did not take this opportunity of assuring you how muchgratification I feel in becoming thus bound up in family affectionwith you and Miss Rachel. Family ties are sweet bonds of sanctifiedlove; and as I have none of my own,--nearer, that is, than Geelong,the colony of Victoria, where my mother and brother and sisters havelocated themselves,--I shall feel the more pleasure in taking you andMiss Rachel to my heart."
This was complimentary to Mrs. Ray; but with her peculiar feelings asto the expediency of people having their own belongings, she almostthought that it would have been better for all parties if Mr. Pronghad gone to Geelong with the rest of the Prong family: this opinion,however, she did not express. As to taking Mr. Prong to her heart,she felt some doubts of her own capacity for such a performance.It would be natural for her to love a son-in-law. She had lovedMr. Prime very dearly, and trusted him thoroughly. She would havebeen prepared to love Luke Rowan, had fate been propitious in thatquarter. But she could not feel secure as to loving Mr. Prong. Suchlove, moreover, should come naturally, of its own growth, and not bedemanded categorically as a right. It certainly was a pity that Mr.Prong had not made himself happy, with that happiness for which hesighed, in the bosom of his family at Geelong. "I'm sure you're verykind," Mrs. Ray had said.
"And when we are thus united in the bonds of this world," continuedMr. Prong, "I do hope that other bonds, more holy in their natureeven than those of family, more needful even than them, may join ustogether. Dorothea has for some months past been a constant attendantat my church--"
"Oh, I couldn't leave Mr. Comfort; indeed I couldn't," said Mrs. Rayin alarm. "I couldn't go away from my own parish church was it everso."
"No, no;
not altogether, perhaps. I am not sure that it would bedesirable. But will it not be sweet, Mrs. Ray, when we are boundtogether as one family, to pour forth our prayers in holy communiontogether?"
"I think so much of my own parish church, Mr. Prong," Mrs. Rayreplied. After that Mr. Prong did not, on that occasion, press thematter further, and soon turned round his chair so as to relieve thethree ladies behind him.
"I think we had better be going, Mr. Prong," said Mrs. Prime, risingfrom her seat with a display of anger in the very motion of herlimbs. "Good-evening, mother: good-evening to you, Rachel. I'm afraidour visit has put you out. Had I guessed as much, we would not havecome."
"You know, Dolly, that I am always glad to see you,--only you come tous so seldom," said Rachel. Then with a very cold bow to Miss Pucker,with a very warm pressure of the hand from Mr. Prong, and with asisterly embrace for Dorothea, that was not cordial as it should havebeen, she bade them good-bye. It was felt by all of them that thevisit had been a failure;--it was felt so, at least, by all the Rayfamily. Mr. Prong had achieved a certain object in discussing hismarriage as a thing settled; and as regarded Miss Pucker, she alsohad achieved a certain object in eating cake and drinking wine inMrs. Ray's parlour.
For some weeks after that but little had been seen of Mrs. Prime atthe cottage; and nothing had been said of her matrimonial prospects.Rachel did not once go to her sister's lodgings; and, on the fewoccasions of their meeting, asked no questions as to Mr. Prong.Indeed, as the days and weeks went on, her heart became too heavy toadmit of her asking any questions about the love affairs of others.She still went about her work, as I have before said. She was notill,--not ill so as to demand the care due to an invalid. But shemoved about the house slowly, as though her limbs were too heavy forher. She spoke little, unless when her mother addressed her. Shewould sit for hours on the sofa doing nothing, reading nothing, andlooking at nothing. But still, at the postman's morning hours, shewould keep her eye upon the road over which he came, and that dulllook of despair would come across her face when he passed on withoutcalling at the cottage.
But on a certain morning towards the end of the six weeks the postmandid call,--as indeed he had called on other days, though bringingwith him no letter from Luke Rowan. Neither now, on this occasion,did he bring a letter from Luke Rowan. The letter was addressed toMrs. Ray; and, as Rachel well knew from the handwriting, it was fromthe gentleman who managed her mother's little money matters,--thegentleman who had succeeded to the business left by Mr. Ray when hedied. So Rachel took the letter up to her mother and left it, sayingthat it was from Mr. Goodall.
Mrs. Ray's small income arose partly from certain cottages inBaslehurst, which had been let in lump to a Baslehurst tradesman, andpartly from shares in a gas company at Exeter. Now the gas company atExeter was the better investment of the two, and was considered to besubject to less uncertainty than the cottages. The lease under whichthe cottages had been let was out, and Mrs. Ray had been advised tosell the property. Building ground near the town was rising in value;and she had been advised by Mr. Goodall to part with her littleestate. Both Mrs. Ray and Rachel were aware that this business, tothem very important, was imminent; and now had come a letter from Mr.Goodall, saying that Mrs. Ray must go to Exeter to conclude the sale."We should only bungle matters," Mr. Goodall had said, "if I were tosend the deeds down to you; and as it is absolutely necessary thatyou should understand all about it, I think you had better come up onTuesday; you can get back to Baslehurst easily on the same day."
"My dear," said Mrs. Ray, coming into the parlour, "I must go toExeter."
"To-day, mamma?"
"No, not to-day, but on Tuesday. Mr. Goodall says I must understandall about the sale. It is a dreadful trouble."
But, dreadful as the trouble was, it seemed that Mrs. Ray was notmade unhappy by the prospect of the little expedition. She fussedand fretted as ladies do on such occasions, but--as is also commonwith ladies,--the excitement of the journey was, upon the whole, agratification to her. She asked Rachel to accompany her, and at firstpressed her to do so strongly; but such work at the present momentwas not in accord with Rachel's mood, and at last she escaped from itunder the plea of expense.
"I think it would be foolish, mamma," she said. "Now that Dolly hasgone you will be run very close; and when Mr. Goodall first spokeof selling the cottages, he said that perhaps you might be withoutanything from them for a quarter."
"But he has sold them now, my dear; and there will be the money atonce."
"I don't see why you should throw away ten and sixpence, mamma," saidRachel.
And as she spoke in that resolved and masterful tone, her mother, ofcourse, gave up the point. So when the Tuesday morning came, she wentwith her mother only as far as the station.
"Don't mind meeting me, because I can't be sure about the train,"said Mrs. Ray. "But I shall be back to-night, certainly."
"And I'll wait tea for you," said Rachel. Then, when her mother wasgone, she walked back to the cottage by herself.
She walked back at once, but took a most devious course. She wasdetermined to avoid the length of the High Street, and she wasdetermined also to avoid Brewery Lane; but she was equally determinedto pass through the churchyard. So she walked down from the railwaystation to the hamlet at the bottom of the hill below the church,and from thence went up by the field-path to the stile. In order toaccomplish this she went fully two miles out of her way, and now thesun over her head was very hot. But what was the distance or the heatof the sun to her when her object was to stand for a few moments inthat place? Her visit, however, to the spot which was so constantlyin her thoughts did her no good. Why had she been so injured? Why hadthis sacrifice of herself been demanded from her? As she sat for amoment on the stile this was the matter that filled her breast. Shehad been exalted to the heavens when she first heard her mother speakof Mr. Rowan as an acceptable suitor. She had been filled with joy asthough Paradise had been opened to her, when she found herself to bethe promised bride of Luke Rowan. Then had come her lover's letter,and the clergyman's counsel, and her own reply; and after that thegates of her Paradise had been closed against her! "I wonder whetherit's the same thing to him," she said to herself. "But I suppose not.I don't think it can be the same thing or he would come. Wouldn'tI go to him if I were free as he is!" She barely rested in thechurchyard, and then walked on between the elms at a quick pace, witha heart sore,--sore almost to breaking. She would never have beenbrought to this condition had not her mother told her that she mightlove him! Thence came her vexation of spirit. There was the cruelty.All the world knew that this man had been her lover;--all her worldknew it. Cherry Tappitt had sung her little witless song about it.Mrs. Tappitt had called at the cottage about it. Mr. Comfort hadgiven his advice about it. Mrs. Cornbury had whispered to her aboutit out of her pony carriage. Mrs. Sturt had counselled her about it.Mr. Prong had thought it very wrong on her part to love the man. Mr.Sturt had thought it very right, and had offered his assistance. Allthis would have been as nothing had her lover remained to her. Cherrymight have sung till her little throat was tired, and Mr. Prong mighthave expressed his awe with outspread hands, and have looked asthough he expected the skies to fall. Had her Paradise not beenclosed to her, all this talking would have been a thing of course.But such talking,--such wide-spread knowledge of her condition, withthe gates of her Paradise closed against her, was very hard to bear!And who had closed the gates? Her own hands had done it. He, herlover, had not deserted her. He had done for her all that truth andearnestness demanded, and perhaps as much as love required. Men werenot so soft as girls, she argued within her own breast. Let a man beever so true it could not be expected that he should stand by hislove after he had been treated with such cold indifference as hadbeen shown in her letter! She would have stood by her love, let hisletter have been as cold as it might. But then she was a woman, andher love, once encouraged, had become a necessity to her. A man, shesaid to herself, would be more proud but less stanch. Of course shewoul
d hear no more from him. Of course the gates of her Paradisewere shut. Such were her thoughts as she walked home, and such thethoughts over which she sat brooding alone throughout the entire day.
At half-past seven in the evening Mrs. Ray came back home, wearilytrudging across the green. She was very weary, for she had now walkedabove two miles from the station. She had also been on her feet halfthe day, and, which was probably worse than all the rest had sheknown it, she had travelled nearly eighty miles by railway. She wasvery tired, and would under ordinary circumstances have been disposedto reckon up her grievances in the evening quite as accurately asRachel had reckoned hers in the morning. But something had occurredin Exeter, the recollection of which still overcame the sense ofweariness which Mrs. Ray felt;--overcame it, or rather overtopped it;so that when Rachel came out to her at the cottage door she did notspeak at once of her own weariness, but looked lovingly into herdaughter's face,--lovingly and anxiously, and said some little wordintended to denote affection.
"You must be very tired," said Rachel, who, with many self-reproachesand much communing within her own bosom, had for the time vanquishedher own hard humour.
"Yes, I am tired, my dear; very. I thought the train never would havegot to the Baslehurst station. It stopped at all the little stations,and really I think I could have walked as fast." A dozen years hadnot as yet gone by since the velocity of these trains had been soterrible to Mrs. Ray that she had hardly dared to get into one ofthem!
"And whom have you seen?" said Rachel.
"Seen!" said Mrs. Ray. "Who told you that I had seen anybody?"
"I suppose you saw Mr. Goodall."
"Oh yes, I saw him of course. I saw him, and the cottages are allsold. We shall have seven pounds ten a year more than before. I'msure it will be a very great comfort. Seven pounds ten will buy somany things."
"But ten pounds would buy more."
"Of course it would, my dear. And I told Mr. Goodall I wished hecould make it ten, as it would make it sound so much more regularlike; but he said he couldn't do it because the gas has gone up somuch. He could have done it if I had sixty pounds, but of course Ihadn't."
"But, mamma, whom did you see except Mr. Goodall? I know you sawsomebody, and you must tell me."
"That's nonsense, Rachel. You can't know that I saw anybody." Itmay, however, be well to explain at once the cause of Mrs. Ray'shesitation, and that this may be done in the proper course, we willgo back to her journey to Exeter. All the incidents of her day maybe told very shortly; but there was one incident in her day whichfilled her with so much anxiety, and almost dismay, that it must benarrated.
On arriving at Exeter she got into an omnibus which would have takenher direct to Mr. Goodall's office in the Close; but she was mindedto call at a shop in the High Street, and had herself put down at thecorner of one of those passages which lead from the High Street tothe Close. She got down from the step of the vehicle, very carefully,as is the wont with middle-aged ladies from the country, and turnedround to walk directly into the shop; but before her, on thepavement, she saw Luke Rowan. He was standing close to her, so thatit was impossible that they should have pretended to miss seeing eachother, even had they been so minded. Any such pretence would havebeen impossible to Mrs. Ray, and would have been altogether contraryto Luke Rowan's nature. He had been coming out of the shop, and hadbeen arrested at once by Mrs. Ray's figure as he saw it emerging fromthe door of the omnibus.
"How d'you do?" said he, coming forward with outstretched hand, andspeaking as though there was nothing between him and Mrs. Ray whichrequired any peculiar word or tone.
"Oh, Mr. Rowan! is this you?" said she. "Dear, dear! I'm sure Ididn't expect to see you in Exeter."
"I dare say not, Mrs. Ray; and I didn't expect to see you. But theodd thing is I've come here about the same business as you, thoughI didn't know anything about it till yesterday."
"What business, Mr. Rowan?"
"I've bought your cottages in Baslehurst."
"No!"
"But I have, and I've paid for them too, and you're going this veryminute to Mr. Goodall to sign the deed of sale. Isn't that true? Soyou see I know all about it."
"Well, that is strange! Isn't it, now?"
"The fact is I must have a bit of land at Baslehurst for building.Tappitt will go on fighting; and as I don't mean to be beaten, I'llhave a place of my own there."
"And you'll pull down the cottages?"
"If I don't pull him down first, so as to get the old brewery. I wasobliged to buy your bit of ground now, as I might not have been ableto get any just when I wanted it. You've sold it a deal too cheap.You tell Mr. Goodall I say so."
"But he says I'm to gain something by selling it."
"Does he? If it is so, I'm very glad of it. I only came down fromLondon yesterday to finish this piece of business, and I'm going backto-day."
During all this time not a word had been said about Rachel. He hadnot even asked after her in the ordinary way in which men ask aftertheir ordinary acquaintance. He had not looked as though he were inthe least embarrassed in speaking to Rachel's mother, and now itseemed as though he were going away, as though all had been saidbetween them that he cared to say. Mrs. Ray at the first moment haddreaded any special word; but now, as he was about to leave her, shefelt disappointed that no special word had been spoken. But he wasnot as yet gone.
"I literally haven't a minute to spare," he said, offering her hishand for a second time; "for I've two or three people to see beforeI get to the train."
"Good-bye," said Mrs. Ray.
"Good-bye, Mrs. Ray. I don't think I've been very well treated amongyou. I don't indeed. But I won't say any more about that at present.Is she quite well?"
"Pretty well, thank you," said she, all of a tremble.
"I won't send her any message. As things are at present, no messagewould be of any service. Good-bye." And so saying he went from her.
Mrs. Ray at that moment had no time for making up her mind as towhat she would do or say in consequence of this meeting,--or whethershe would do or say anything. She looked forward to all the leisuretime of her journey home for thinking of that; so she finished hershopping and hurried on to Mr. Goodall's office without resolvingwhether or no she would tell Rachel of the encounter. At Mr.Goodall's she remained some little time, dining at that gentleman'shouse as well as signing the deed, and asking questions about the gascompany. He had grateful recollections of kindnesses received fromMr. Ray, and always exercised his hospitality on those rare occasionswhich brought Mrs. Ray up to Exeter. As they sat at table he askedquestions about the young purchaser of the property which somewhatperplexed Mrs. Ray. Yes, she said, she did know him. She had justmet him in the street and heard his news. Young Rowan, she told herfriend, had been at the cottage more than once, but no mention hadbeen made of his desire to buy these cottages. Was he well spoken ofin Baslehurst? Well;--she was so little in Baslehurst that she hardlyknew. She had heard that he had quarrelled with Mr. Tappitt, and shebelieved that many people had said that he was wrong in his quarrel.She knew nothing of his property; but certainly had heard somebodysay that he had gone away without paying his debts. It may easilybe conceived how miserable and ineffective she would be under thiscross-examination, although it was made by Mr. Goodall without anyallusion to Rachel.
"At any rate we have got our money," said Mr. Goodall; "and I supposethat's all we care about. But I should say he's rather a harum-scarumsort of fellow. Why he should leave his debts behind him I can'tunderstand, as he seems to have plenty of money."
All this made Mrs. Ray's task the more difficult. During the lasttwo or three weeks she had been wishing that she had not goneto Mr. Comfort,--wishing that she had allowed Rachel to answerRowan's letter in any terms of warmest love that she might havechosen,--wishing, in fact, that she had permitted the engagementto go on. But now she began again to think that she had been right.If this man were in truth a harum-scarum fellow was it not wellthat Rachel should be quit of him,--even wi
th any amount of presentsorrow? Thinking of this on her way back to Baslehurst she again madeup her mind that Rowan was a wolf. But she had not made up her mindas to what she would, or what she would not tell Rachel about themeeting, even when she reached her own door. "I will send her nomessage," he had said. "As things are at present no message would beof service." What had he meant by this? What purpose on his part didthese words indicate? These questions Mrs. Ray had asked herself, buthad failed to answer them.
But no resolution on Mrs. Ray's part to keep the meeting secret wouldhave been of avail, even had she made such resolution. The fact wouldhave fallen from her as easily as water falls from a sieve. Rachelwould have extracted from her the information, had she been ever sodetermined not to impart it. As things had turned out she had at oncegiven Rachel to understand that she had met some one in Exeter whomshe had not expected to meet.
"But, mamma, whom did you see except Mr. Goodall?" Rachel asked. "Iknow you saw somebody, and you must tell me."
"That's nonsense, Rachel; you can't know that I saw anybody."
After that there was a pause for some moments, and then Rachelpersisted in her inquiry. "But, mamma, I do know that you metsomebody."--Then there was another pause.--"Mamma, was it Mr. Rowan?"
Mrs. Ray stood convicted at once. Had she not spoken a word, the formof her countenance when the question was asked would have answered itwith sufficient clearness. But she did speak a word. "Well; yes, itwas Mr. Rowan. He had come down to Exeter on business."
"And what did he say, mamma?"
"He didn't say anything,--at least, nothing particular. It is he thathas bought the cottages, and he had come down from London about that.He told me that he wanted some ground near Baslehurst, because hecouldn't get the brewery."
"And what else did he say, mamma?"
"I tell you that he said nothing else."
"He didn't--didn't mention me then?"
Mrs. Ray had been looking away from Rachel during thisconversation,--had been purposely looking away from her. But nowthere was a tone of agony in her child's voice which forced her toglance round. Ah me! She beheld so piteous an expression of woe inRachel's face that her whole heart was melted within her, and shebegan to wish instantly that they might have Rowan back again withall his faults.
"Tell me the truth, mamma; I may as well know it."
"Well, my dear, he didn't mention your name, but he did say a wordabout you."
"What word, mamma?"
"He said he would send no message because it would be no good."
"He said that, did he?"
"Yes, he said that. And so I suppose he meant it would be no goodsending anything till he came himself."
"No, mamma; he didn't mean quite that. I understand what he meant. Asit is to be so, he was quite right. No message could be of any use.It has been my own doing, and I have no right to blame him. Mamma, ifyou don't mind, I think I'll go to bed."
"My dear, you're wrong. I'm sure you're wrong. He didn't mean that."
"Didn't he, mamma?" And as she spoke a sad, weary, wobegone smilecame over her face,--a smile so sad and piteous that it went to hermother's heart more keenly than would have done any sound of sorrow,any sobs, or wail of grief. "But I think he did mean that, mamma.It's no good doubting or fearing any longer. It's all over now."
"And it has been my fault!"
"No, dearest. It has not been your fault, nor do I think that it hasbeen mine. I think we'd better not talk of faults. Ah dear;--I dowish he had never come here!"
"Perhaps it may be all well yet, Rachel."
"Perhaps it may,--in another world. It will never be well again forme in this. Good-night, mamma. You must never think that I am angrywith you."
Then she went up stairs, leaving Mrs. Ray alone with her sorrow.