Those were four miserable months, alternating between intenseanxiety, despair, and indignation, pity for him and pity formyself. And yet, through all, I was not wholly comfortless: I hadmy darling, sinless, inoffensive little one to console me; but eventhis consolation was embittered by the constantly-recurringthought, 'How shall I teach him hereafter to respect his father,and yet to avoid his example?'

But I remembered that I had brought all these afflictions, in amanner wilfully, upon myself; and I determined to bear them withouta murmur. At the same time I resolved not to give myself up tomisery for the transgressions of another, and endeavoured to divertmyself as much as I could; and besides the companionship of mychild, and my dear, faithful Rachel, who evidently guessed mysorrows and felt for them, though she was too discreet to allude tothem, I had my books and pencil, my domestic affairs, and thewelfare and comfort of Arthur's poor tenants and labourers toattend to: and I sometimes sought and obtained amusement in thecompany of my young friend Esther Hargrave: occasionally I rodeover to see her, and once or twice I had her to spend the day withme at the Manor. Mrs. Hargrave did not visit London that season:having no daughter to marry, she thought it as well to stay at homeand economise; and, for a wonder, Walter came down to join her inthe beginning of June, and stayed till near the close of August.

The first time I saw him was on a sweet, warm evening, when I wassauntering in the park with little Arthur and Rachel, who is head-nurse and lady's-maid in one - for, with my secluded life andtolerably active habits, I require but little attendance, and asshe had nursed me and coveted to nurse my child, and was moreoverso very trustworthy, I preferred committing the important charge toher, with a young nursery-maid under her directions, to engagingany one else: besides, it saves money; and since I have madeacquaintance with Arthur's affairs, I have learnt to regard that asno trifling recommendation; for, by my own desire, nearly the wholeof the income of my fortune is devoted, for years to come, to thepaying off of his debts, and the money he contrives to squanderaway in London is incomprehensible. But to return to Mr. Hargrave.I was standing with Rachel beside the water, amusing the laughingbaby in her arms with a twig of willow laden with golden catkins,when, greatly to my surprise, he entered the park, mounted on hiscostly black hunter, and crossed over the grass to meet me. Hesaluted me with a very fine compliment, delicately worded, andmodestly delivered withal, which he had doubtless concocted as herode along. He told me he had brought a message from his mother,who, as he was riding that way, had desired him to call at theManor and beg the pleasure of my company to a friendly familydinner to-morrow.

'There is no one to meet but ourselves,' said he; 'but Esther isvery anxious to see you; and my mother fears you will feel solitaryin this great house so much alone, and wishes she could persuadeyou to give her the pleasure of your company more frequently, andmake yourself at home in our more humble dwelling, till Mr.Huntingdon's return shall render this a little more conducive toyour comfort.'

'She is very kind,' I answered, 'but I am not alone, you see; - andthose whose time is fully occupied seldom complain of solitude.'

'Will you not come to-morrow, then? She will be sadly disappointedif you refuse.'

I did not relish being thus compassionated for my loneliness; but,however, I promised to come.

'What a sweet evening this is!' observed he, looking round upon thesunny park, with its imposing swell and slope, its placid water,and majestic clumps of trees. 'And what a paradise you live in!'

'It is a lovely evening,' answered I; and I sighed to think howlittle I had felt its loveliness, and how little of a paradisesweet Grassdale was to me - how still less to the voluntary exilefrom its scenes. Whether Mr. Hargrave divined my thoughts, Icannot tell, but, with a half-hesitating, sympathising seriousnessof tone and manner, he asked if I had lately heard from Mr.Huntingdon.

'Not lately,' I replied.

'I thought not,' he muttered, as if to himself, lookingthoughtfully on the ground.

'Are you not lately returned from London?' I asked.

'Only yesterday.'

'And did you see him there?'

'Yes - I saw him.'

'Was he well?'

'Yes - that is,' said he, with increasing hesitation and anappearance of suppressed indignation, 'he was as well as - as hedeserved to be, but under circumstances I should have deemedincredible for a man so favoured as he is.' He here looked up andpointed the sentence with a serious bow to me. I suppose my facewas crimson.

'Pardon me, Mrs. Huntingdon,' he continued, 'but I cannot suppressmy indignation when I behold such infatuated blindness andperversion of taste; - but, perhaps, you are not aware - ' Hepaused.

'I am aware of nothing, sir - except that he delays his cominglonger than I expected; and if, at present, he prefers the societyof his friends to that of his wife, and the dissipations of thetown to the quiet of country life, I suppose I have those friendsto thank for it. Their tastes and occupations are similar to his,and I don't see why his conduct should awaken either theirindignation or surprise.'

'You wrong me cruelly,' answered he. 'I have shared but little ofMr. Huntingdon's society for the last few weeks; and as for histastes and occupations, they are quite beyond me - lonely wandereras I am. Where I have but sipped and tasted, he drains the cup tothe dregs; and if ever for a moment I have sought to drown thevoice of reflection in madness and folly, or if I have wasted toomuch of my time and talents among reckless and dissipatedcompanions, God knows I would gladly renounce them entirely and forever, if I had but half the blessings that man so thanklessly castsbehind his back - but half the inducements to virtue and domestic,orderly habits that he despises - but such a home, and such apartner to share it! It is infamous!' he muttered, between histeeth. 'And don't think, Mrs. Huntingdon,' he added aloud, 'that Icould be guilty of inciting him to persevere in his presentpursuits: on the contrary, I have remonstrated with him again andagain; I have frequently expressed my surprise at his conduct, andreminded him of his duties and his privileges - but to no purpose;he only - '

'Enough, Mr. Hargrave; you ought to be aware that whatever myhusband's faults may be, it can only aggravate the evil for me tohear them from a stranger's lips.'

'Am I then a stranger?' said he in a sorrowful tone. 'I am yournearest neighbour, your son's godfather, and your husband's friend;may I not be yours also?'

'Intimate acquaintance must precede real friendship; I know butlittle of you, Mr. Hargrave, except from report.'

'Have you then forgotten the six or seven weeks I spent under yourroof last autumn? I have not forgotten them. And I know enough ofyou, Mrs. Huntingdon, to think that your husband is the mostenviable man in the world, and I should be the next if you woulddeem me worthy of your friendship.'

'If you knew more of me, you would not think it, or if you did youwould not say it, and expect me to be flattered by the compliment.'

I stepped backward as I spoke. He saw that I wished theconversation to end; and immediately taking the hint, he gravelybowed, wished me good-evening, and turned his horse towards theroad. He appeared grieved and hurt at my unkind reception of hissympathising overtures. I was not sure that I had done right inspeaking so harshly to him; but, at the time, I had felt irritated- almost insulted by his conduct; it seemed as if he was presumingupon the absence and neglect of my husband, and insinuating evenmore than the truth against him.

Rachel had moved on, during our conversation, to some yards'distance. He rode up to her, and asked to see the child. He tookit carefully into his arms, looked upon it with an almost paternalsmile, and I heard him say, as I approached, -

'And this, too, he has forsaken!'

He then tenderly kissed it, and restored it to the gratified nurse.

'Are you fond of children, Mr. Hargrave?' said I, a little softenedtowards him.

'Not in general,' he replied, 'but that is such a sweet child, andso like its mother,' he added in a lower tone.

'You are mistaken there; it is its father it resembles.'

'Am I not right, nurse?' said he, appealing to Rachel.

'I think, sir, there's a bit of both,' she replied.

He departed; and Rachel pronounced him a very nice gentleman. Ihad still my doubts on the subject.

In the course of the following six weeks I met him several times,but always, save once, in company with his mother, or his sister,or both. When I called on them, he always happened to be at home,and, when they called on me, it was always he that drove them overin the phaeton. His mother, evidently, was quite delighted withhis dutiful attentions and newly-acquired domestic habits.

The time that I met him alone was on a bright, but not oppressivelyhot day, in the beginning of July: I had taken little Arthur intothe wood that skirts the park, and there seated him on the moss-cushioned roots of an old oak; and, having gathered a handful ofbluebells and wild-roses, I was kneeling before him, and presentingthem, one by one, to the grasp of his tiny fingers; enjoying theheavenly beauty of the flowers, through the medium of his smilingeyes: forgetting, for the moment, all my cares, laughing at hisgleeful laughter, and delighting myself with his delight, - when ashadow suddenly eclipsed the little space of sunshine on the grassbefore us; and looking up, I beheld Walter Hargrave standing andgazing upon us.

'Excuse me, Mrs. Huntingdon,' said he, 'but I was spell-bound; Ihad neither the power to come forward and interrupt you, nor towithdraw from the contemplation of such a scene. How vigorous mylittle godson grows! and how merry he is this morning!' Heapproached the child, and stooped to take his hand; but, on seeingthat his caresses were likely to produce tears and lamentations,instead of a reciprocation of friendly demonstrations, he prudentlydrew back.

'What a pleasure and comfort that little creature must be to you,Mrs. Huntingdon!' he observed, with a touch of sadness in hisintonation, as he admiringly contemplated the infant.

'It is,' replied I; and then I asked after his mother and sister.

He politely answered my inquiries, and then returned again to thesubject I wished to avoid; though with a degree of timidity thatwitnessed his fear to offend.

'You have not heard from Huntingdon lately?' he said.

'Not this week,' I replied. Not these three weeks, I might havesaid.

'I had a letter from him this morning. I wish it were such a oneas I could show to his lady.' He half drew from his waistcoat-pocket a letter with Arthur's still beloved hand on the address,scowled at it, and put it back again, adding - 'But he tells me heis about to return next week.'

'He tells me so every time he writes.'

'Indeed! well, it is like him. But to me he always avowed it hisintention to stay till the present month.'

It struck me like a blow, this proof of premeditated transgressionand systematic disregard of truth.

'It is only of a piece with the rest of his conduct,' observed Mr.Hargrave, thoughtfully regarding me, and reading, I suppose, myfeelings in my face.

'Then he is really coming next week?' said I, after a pause.

'You may rely upon it, if the assurance can give you any pleasure.And is it possible, Mrs. Huntingdon, that you can rejoice at hisreturn?' he exclaimed, attentively perusing my features again.

'Of course, Mr. Hargrave; is he not my husband?'

'Oh, Huntingdon; you know not what you slight!' he passionatelymurmured.

I took up my baby, and, wishing him good-morning, departed, toindulge my thoughts unscrutinized, within the sanctum of my home.

And was I glad? Yes, delighted; though I was angered by Arthur'sconduct, and though I felt that he had wronged me, and wasdetermined he should feel it too.