of Old Romney, with the Kent Ditch between him and Joanna
like a prison wall.

When Joanna told him what Ellen had said, he accepted it meekly--

"That's right, Joanna--I must go."

"But that ull be terrible hard for you, Arthur."

He looked at her.

"Reckon it will."

"Where ull you go?"

"Oh, I can go to Tom's."

"That's right away in the shires, ain't it?"

"Yes--beyond Leicester."

"Where they do the hunting."

"Surelye."

"What's the farm?"

"Grain mostly--and he's done well with his sheep. He'd be glad to have
me for a bit."

"What'll you do with Donkey Street?"

"Let it off for a bit."

"Don't you sell!"

"Not I!"

"You'll be meaning to come back?"

"I'll be hoping."

Joanna gazed at him for a few moments in silence, and a change came into
her voice--

"Arthur, you're doing all this because of me."

"I'm doing it for you, Joanna."

"Well--I don't feel I've any call--I haven't any right.... I mean, if
Ellen don't like you here, she must go herself ... it ain't fair on
you--you at Donkey Street for more'n twenty year ..."

"Don't you trouble about that. A change won't hurt me. Reckon either
Ellen or me ull have to go and it ud break your heart if it was Ellen."

"Why can't you both stay? Ellen ull have to stay if I make her. I don't
believe a word of what she says about going as lady's maid--she hasn't
got the grit--nor the character neither, though she doesn't seem to
think of that."

"It ud be unaccountable awkward, Jo--and it ud set Ellen against both of
us, and bring you trouble. Maybe if I go she'll take a different view of
things. I shan't let off the place for longer than three year ... it'll
give her a chance to think different, and then maybe we can fix up
something...."

Joanna fastened on to these words, both for her own comfort in Arthur's
loss, and for the quieting of her conscience, which told her that it was
preposterous that he should leave Donkey Street so that she could keep
Ellen at Ansdore. Of course, if she did her duty she would pack Ellen
off to the Isle of Wight, so that Arthur could stay. The fact was,
however, that she wanted the guilty, ungracious Ellen more than she
wanted the upright, devoted Arthur--she was glad to know of any terms on
which her sister would consent to remain under her roof--it seemed
almost too good to be true, to think that once more she had the little
sister home....

So she signed the warrant for Arthur's exile, which was to