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"I think you go a little too far," ventured Mrs. Frankton.

Her visitor stooped, and laid one yellow kid finger on the faded geranium. "The thing is-are we to notice her?" Mrs. Haye's tone was solemn and impressive, and the speech altogether had a magnificent sound. Underneath it there was an uneasy, resentful doubt lest, in the innumerable divisions which do so singularly intersect the classes with lines difficult to comprehend, the new Mrs. Rashleigh should think herself above her neighbors in the social scale.

Something of this must have cropped out; for Mrs. Frankton, looking upon the yellow kid finger, broke into a laugh of genuine amusement.

At any rate," she said, "as we have hitherto been very good friends with Mr. Rashleigh, I suppose we shall be neighborly enough to call."

Some unhappy thread had surely got entangled in the fabric of poor Gertrude's fate, and had been enwoven with it. Prejudice had crept on before her, and was already doing her incalculable mischief. If these gossippers would only have stopped to consider the actual foundation for their decisions! But that is a thing seldom done.

"Oh! I dare say she will be trying to visit at Sir James Field's, and possibly with Lord Cavendish himself. We cannot keep up with that sort of thing, you know."

Again Mrs. Frankton laughed. "Upon my word," she said, "I am quite tired of Mrs. Noel Rashleigh before I have seen her. She has had more than could be compressed into nine ordinary days already. How do you think my rose-hedge looks ?"

CHAPTER IV.

HER IMPRESSION,

Ir was a somewhat dreary morning in November, that month which is so unfairly maligned as suicidal, and which is so often one of the mildest and most agreeable months in the latter half of the year.

Gertrude Rashleigh left her seat at the breakfast-table with some haste, and knelt down at a low window which she threw open, leaning over the stone sill

outside. The proximate cause for this change of posture must have been the approaching footsteps of a servant or the departing ones of Mr. Rashleigh, or perhaps both, since the expression of Mrs. Rashleigh's face was not one which would have borne the scrutiny of servants' eyes.

She listened to the noisy removal of the breakfast service, and once or twice had an impulsive desire to beg for less violent demonstrations on the remover's part; but she restrained herself. It is a humiliating fact for a mistress to confess, but Mrs. Rashleigh was afraid of her servants. This morning she was afraid of everything. She was so lonely, and wretched, and low-spirited, that it was hard to keep back the tears, and gulp down the lump in her throat, a giving way to which would, she reflected, be so very childish. She scolded herself, instead of thus giving way. What did she want? Had she not all, and more than all, that could possibly be desired? Was not her husband kindness itself; and had she ever heard a harsh word from his lips? Never! Perhaps it was early days for that yet; and perhaps also, in the midst of her self-scolding, the shutting of the distant door of his laboratory fell upon her ear with a blank, chilly reminder of the desolate and aimless day before her. A day like yesterday, and the day before, and, oh! so many days before, that she could hardly remember when they began, and certainly could not look forward to the time when they would end.

And then her thoughts wandered back to the first few days of her life in this new home. How happy they were! How constantly Noel had been with

her! What pleasant walks they had taken together about the fields, and down under the willows by the riverside. And he had started the project of a boat, in which he was to row her to the ruins of an old abbey a few miles lower down the river; and George was to go with them and make a pic-nic of it. And the cooing of wood - pigeons was in her ear again; the rippling of the clear beautiful water, as the willow branches kissed it; and she saw again the great pink beds of wild geranium, and the wild yellow iris, the foxgloves, forget-me-nots, and countless wild flow

ers growing in the coverts by the river. In the fields, too, the startled pheasants ran from the path, scarcely fearing her sufficiently to fly outright. And then the rabbits and hares, and the thousands of birds with their marvellous songsall new to her! But, above all, Noel had been there.

And the wife of a few months roused herself, for a great hot tear had fallen on her hand, and more threatened to come a shower more like July than November; hot and thundery.

"I won't do it," said Mrs. Rashleigh, passionately. "I will not-it's wicked."

And so tear after tear fell, and was wiped away with angry vehemence, and still they persisted in coming.

"Aunt Jean, Aunt Jean, what would you say to me now? Oh, I wish I had some one to scold me for being so wicked and ungrateful!"

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But Aunt Jean would never come uninvited, and how was it possible to invite her, when she would see and know

all? All what?

It would have been difficult for Gertrude to answer that. And it seemed useless to try to rouse herself from these musings, since there was nothing at all, that she knew of, for her to do.

She had got tired of those long, rambling walks which had been rather pleasant when first Noel began to turn towards that ugly door and leave her to herself; besides it was not the season for them.

What could she do? Something must be wrong in herself; what was it?

Mrs. Rashleigh drew a stool to the window and took a piece of work from her work table. She was going to be good and useful. But, alas! she could have found few better misery accelerators than the needle. There were so many associations connected with it; so many of Aunt Jean's dry remarks as to her niece's long stitches and short progress. The needle was very bright at first, but it grew dim; she could not see it at all: then it split into a dozen needles. And she threw down the work and set herself to think.

We may as well go back with her along her brief experience of married life, since we know as yet nothing about it.

It seemed to have been a series of false or unfortunate steps, from which those neighbors whom she was so anxious to conciliate drew, without of course meaning to be cruel, cruel conclusions.

She remembered her first Sunday at church, where everything was so different from what she had been accustomed to, that, but for the novelty, it would have made her miserable at once.

The better part of the congregation came in as they would have entered a concert room, or any other place of public entertainment; speaking over the seats to their friends, some even shaking hands, and then taking a deliberate survey of all those who had been previously seated, before they settled themselves for the performance (sic). The word must be excused; it was one which occurred with an almost hysterical affection of remorse to the bride herself, who sat in a shady corner of her ugly square pew, shrinking from all those eyes which were turned so mercilessly upon her.

Then came those lower in the social scale, and they strolled in by twos and threes, and took their places stolidly with open mouths and staring eyes, as though they had no very exact idea of what was about to take place, but whatever it might be, they were not to be shaken from their heavy blankness of indifference.

Moreover, so that the arrivals were over before the sermon began, it did not seem to matter much about the other parts of the service; and the constant disturbance of those clanking iron-heeled country boots-in rustic parlance donkey-shod-and the heavy, swaying gait which seemed to bring each foot down with the whole weight of the body above it, all had a perfectly novel and bewildering effect upon Mrs. Rashleigh.

Also, it was her unhappy fate to be musical; and the dreadfully ornate chants and long dreary hymns, all in that inimitable nasal twang of Sunday-school children, which must be heard to be appreciated, tried her sorely.

During the sermon some one snored very audibly behind her, and taking courage to glance round, a vision of open mouths and closed eyes caused her to turn again quickly and keep close

in her corner. The wonder was that | Rashleigh. Also she had given it as Noel sat so gravely composed and tran- her impression that many of the poorer quil at her side; but then he was used people seemed to go to church more for to it. the actual change and variety than from any love for the service itself. "Her impression!"

Her comments on the subject afterwards struck him as so novel and amusing that he encouraged them; and here again fortune was surely inimical to Mrs. Rashleigh. For after her appearance at church, the little village world began to call upon her. It was very awful; worse a great deal than she had expected.

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The visitors, already prejudiced, were so stiff and angular and utterly unapproachable, that Gertrude began to think society in the country must be a very starched affair indeed, and to reflect with dismay upon her former ideas of the cordial way in which she was to receive her neighbors' advances. There did not seem to be any advances to receive. Mrs. Rashleigh, young, inexperienced, and fearful of not pleasing, got nervous in the awful pauses, and rushed madly into a subject which she thought must surely be common ground. The necessity of improvement in the church music, and the dreary way in which the service was conducted.

Unhappy blindness that possessed her! Why could she not see the village crest erecting itself; growing red and defiant; rising higher and higher against her? So, that was the way in which the lady intended to commence her leadership! She was going to reform the church services, and the vicar of course; and perhaps she would tune the organ and "lead" the singing. Really, the parish had not seen before how very faulty it was; there was hope for it, however, now that it possessed a Mrs. Noel Rashleigh! It would soon improve. A child like that to come and preach, indeed! As if it was not bad enough that she had angled for and caught the best match in the parish; and now she, an interloper, a conceited school-girl, must set up her opinion about the services, which were not good enough for her!

And she had actually laughed at the organist, and called him a "country practitioner!"

Of course it was easy to make use of low wit. Anything could be turned into ridicule except, of course, Mrs.

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There is absolutely no word to express the intense contempt with which "her impression!" was flung at the unfortu nate young lady, from all parts of the parish, till it became a household word, and small ladies and gentlemen used it iu their nursery quarrels to extinguish a belligerent nurse.

Mrs. Rashleigh of course did not know what she had done; she only knew that she was wofully disappointed in these neighbors, from whose companionship she had hoped so much. Their bearing and conversation when she did happen to meet them gave her some vague uneasy idea of fencing, and roused more than once the angry color to her face, and something like defiance to her eye. They were either very disagreeable people, or else something was wrong in herself. At any rate, their calls must be returned, and perhaps they would be different by-and-by.

But by this time Noel Rashleigh's holiday-making was over, and he had begun to busy himself again with his old occupations, and leave his wife to herself. She could not go alone to visit these people, even if it were proper she should do so. In the boldness of this propriety she had once taken her husband by storm, and inveigled him into accompanying her upon one of these visits of ceremony. If she could have heard the sigh with which he shut himself up in his study on his return, she might have known how hopeless it would be to try again. She did not know it, however; nevertheless it was not without a little misgiving that she ventured to knock at that door which some instinct warned her was intended to shut her husband from the outer world, and to be respected accordingly. Her knock produced no result, and she turned the handle and said gently, "Noel !"

Not to this either did she get any answer. The door yielded to her hand, and she went in. She had a confused perception of some pungent odor in the room; of incomprehensible vessels and instruments lying about; of wonderful dusty volumes, on one of which she put

her hand absently; and of her husband, absorbed and inaccessible, never even turning to look at her.

her heart the conviction that he did not want her; it was a kiss of bribery, to send her away. This room and its contents were more to him than his wife; if she was to be an incumbrance why had he married her? With a womanly instinct of having at least one trial before confessing herself a secondary ob

She would not go back. It was a mistake to be there, perhaps, but being there she told her errand bravely, seeing at the same time, with eyes that read the words mechanically, the title of the volume under her hand, Theatrum Chemi-ject to her husband, she turned steadily cum Britannicum.

A feeling of some grim significance in the words came over her. What business had her small requirements to obtrude themselves into an atmosphere such as this? What chance had she of winning Noel's ear?

When he did look up at her he was, as usual at such times, like a man half awake, and he was muttering, with his finger on a page to keep his place, something about the fairy of Paracelsus, and the hypothesis of Dr. Girtanner, of Gottingen.

Gertrude spoke again, hesitatingly this time, and with that strange new feeling of incongruity and hopelessness tinging her speech.

"What is it ?" said Noel, dimly. "Why, my dear girl, I never do go out; never did, you know. It is impossible." "But, Noel, these people have called upon us, and they will be offended." "What about ?"

"If we do not return their calls." Mr. Rashleigh passed his hand through his hair confusedly, and his book, relieved of the finger, closed. He had lost his place, and was getting impatient.

"Can't you do it, Gertrude ?" "Alone!"

Noel was at his wits' end. He was very fond of his wife; but what were his neighbors to him? Had marriage brought upon him any necessity to study their convenience more than his own? Gertrude was the dearest little wife in the world, but that she should expect him to do such violence to his nature as this was very terrible.

"I'll tell you what, Gerty," he said briskly. "I'll get you a pony carriage, and then Joseph can drive you anywhere you want to go. That is, I'll reckon up and see if I can afford it."

Gertrude put her hand on his shoulder timidly, and he took it in his own and kissed it; but the movement was not reässuring. It drove down deeper into

away from all these unknown rivals and saw only him. And in turning, the hand which had rested on that Theatrum Chemicum struck it from her with an impetuous angry movement.

"Don't get a pony carriage, Noel. I don't want it; I should not like it. I want nothing-but you."

"Well," he said smiling, "you have got me, haven't you?"

Still Gertrude shut out everything in that room, against which a passionate sensation of jealousy was rising up, and saw only him. And she knew that she must yield.

"You will do without me this morning, Gertrude ?" 66 Yes, Noel."

And then he drew her down and kissed her forehead.

"That's a good little wife. So now go and do these troublesome calls, and make haste back to tell me all about them."

Gertrude went away heavily. And the walk was very hot, and the birds were very tiresome, for they would persist in singing almost as though it had still been summer, while in reality it was, autumn; time for the trees to begin to wither, as her hopes were withering. She said so to herself, for there was a sort of relief in saying it.

"He told me to make haste back to tell him all about it. And by this time he has forgotten that he has a wife. It will be always the same, I suppose; always 'sublimates.' And I shall have to like this. If I could do anything for him I wouldn't care. I meant to try so hard to make him happy, and now he is happy without me. And then these dreadful people! Why should I trouble myself to conciliate them if Noel doesn't? I care only for him, and they are rude and disagreeable. I have a great mind to go back.”

But at this juncture, toying irresolutely with the gate that led to Mrs.

Haye's residence, Gertrude caught sight of that lady in a strong-minded bonnet, huge gardening gloves, and carrying a garden fork. And Gertrude could not go back, for Mrs. Haye came forward to meet her, with a back so very straight and stiff that half a dozen pokers might have been fixed in it.

But Mrs. Rashleigh, out of sorts and dismal already, neither made nor received any more favorable impression than usual; and she was glad to get back, hot and tired, to her own room, and think about Noel.

Reaction had begun already, and she was blaming herself. She had been behaving like a spoiled child, not like a sensible wife. She must and would alter this. She would see about the housekeeping, and be useful somewhere.

So her next venture was an irruption into the kitchen, where a red-armed woman faced her defiantly, holding a spit in her hand, as though the little lady had been a joint of meat just ready for impaling. The red-armed woman had lived cook and housekeeper also with the master too long to be put upon by his new plaything of a wife. Let her keep to her planner and her tattering and thingamies, and not bring airs into the kitchen, where everybody knew she was as ignorant as a babe unborn.

The cook did not say this aloud, of course; but as she stood like a bull making up his mind for a rush, shaking his head and snorting, Gertrude read it as plainly as though it had been spoken. And her heart sank, for she was ignorant. She was also totally incapable of dealing with this woman; and the thought crossed her mind that Noel, being aware of this incapacity, might have helped her. She dismissed the thought as disloyal. She must never blame Noel any more. Everything was her own fault. She should have taken Aunt Jean's advice, and put herself into training. Her idea of being useful in housekeeping details was, then, a failure; her own servant treated her with a deference that was galling from its assumption of superior wisdom, and she was nobody in her own house.

She had also made a feeble attempt in the direction of the schools, but the mistress thereof had shown herself so decidedly cantankerous that Gertrude did

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not dare to persevere. It was true that she might have applied to the vicar, but then she was shy; moreover, he might not see her anxiety for work in the right light. He was a very good man, but he was also very old and infirm, and if he had possessed enemies, which he did not

-at least in his own parish-they might have accused him of a sort of sleepy, apathetic dulness in the monotonous round of duties which he went through now just as he had gone through them forty years ago. As for her brother, it was quite useless to appeal to him. IIe was still new in the parish, and was not liked. Although not gifted with a brilliant intellect, such talents as he had were devoted to his calling, and his fault in the beginning had been over plain speaking wherever he saw abuses. The curate whom he succeeded had been a hunter, shooter, fisher, cricketer, athlete; not, perhaps, one of Mr. Kingsley's muscular priests, since these are not supposed to neglect their duties, as he did. Nevertheless, inasmuch as he gave to the poor with a free-handed generosity, which Mr. Chester, being poor himself, could not emulate, comparisons were drawn between the two considerably to the advantage of the former curate, and to the depreciation of the present one.

But all this has nothing to do with Mrs. Rashleigh's troubles; neither did her retrospect on this dreary November day, in which the sun positively declined to come out, help her, except to this conclusion: she had wronged Noel in her marriage with him. He had expected a wife able to discharge all the duties of a head of the house, and she was nothing but a child after all, who dared not speak to her servants.

At night she sat down to the piano. And by-and-by the door of that distant study opened, and Noel came in and sat down just where she had been sitting over her work.

Gertrude played on-music that seemed to grow spontaneously under her fingers out of the hope that at least now she was doing something to please him.

And she played till her fingers ached, and the church clock struck, causing her to wonder at the lateness of the hour. Then she rose and went up to her husband. Noel was asleep.

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