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treated the poor creature harshly. When I hear of Romayne and his



Retreat, I almost feel inclined to spit, myself. There! let us go

on with your reading. Take the first volume--I have done with



it."

"What is it, mama?"



"A very remarkable work, Stella, in the present state of light

literature in England--a novel that actually tells a story. It's



quite incredible, I know. Try the book. It has another

extraordinary merit--it isn't written by a woman."



Stella obediently received the first volume, turned over the

leaves, and wearily dropped the wonderful novel on her lap. "I



can't attend to it," she said. "My mind is too full of my own

thoughts."



"About Romayne?" said her mother.

"No. When I think of my husband now, I almost wish I had his



confidence in Priests and Retreats. The conviction grows on me,

mama, that my worst troubles are still to come. When I was



younger, I don't remember being tormented by presentiments of any

kind. Did I ever talk of presentiments to you, in the bygone



days?"

"If you had done anything of the sort, my love (excuse me, if I



speak plainly), I should have said, 'Stella, your liver is out of

order'; and I should have opened the family medicine-chest. I



will only say now send for the carriage; let us go to a morning

concert, dine at a restaurant, and finish the evening at the



play."

This characteristic proposal was entirely thrown away on Stella.



She was absorbed in pursuing her own train of thought. "I almost

wish I had told Lewis," she said to herself absently.



"Told him of what, my dear?"

"Of what happened to me with Winterfield."



Mrs. Eyrecourt's faded eyes opened wide in astonishment.

"Do you really mean it?" she asked.



"I do, indeed."

"Are you actually simple enough, Stella, to think that a man of



Romayne's temper would have made you his wife if you had told him

of the Brussels marriage?"



"Why not?"

"Why not! Would Romayne--would any man--believe that you really



did part from Winterfield at the church door? Considering that

you are a married woman, your innocence, my sweet child, is a



perfect phenomenon! It's well there were wiser people than you to

keep your secret."



"Don't speak too positively, mama. Lewis may find it out yet."

"Is that one of your presentiments?"



"Yes."

"How is he to find it out, if you please?"



"I am afraid, through Father Benwell. Yes! yes! I know you only

think him a fawning old hypocrite--you don't fear him as I do.



Nothing will persuade me that zeal for his religion is the motive

under which that man acts in devoting himself to Romayne. He has



some abominable object in view, and his eyes tell me that I am

concerned in it."



Mrs. Eyrecourt burst out laughing.

"What is there to laugh at?" Stella asked.



"I declare, my dear, there is something absolutely provoking in

your utter want of knowledge of the world! When you are puzzled



to account for anything remarkable in a clergyman's conduct (I

don't care, my poor child, to what denomination he belongs) you



can't be wrong in attributing his motive to--Money. If Romayne

had turned Baptist or Methodist, the reverend gentleman in charge



of his spiritualwelfare would not have forgotten--as you have

forgotten, you little goose--that his convert was a rich man. His



mind would have dwelt on the chapel, or the mission, or the

infant school, in want of funds; and--with no more abominable



object in view than I have, at this moment, in poking the

fire--he would have ended in producing his modest subscription



list and would have betrayed himself (just as our odious Benwell

will betray himself) by the two amiable little words, Please



contribute. Is there any other presentiment, my dear, on which

you would like to have your mother's candid opinion?"






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