She is multum in parvo; she is the rock of
Gibraltar in animate form; she is cosmic obstinacy on four legs. When
following out the devices and desires of her own heart, or resisting
the devices and desires of yours, she can put a pressure of five hundred
tons on the bit. She is further fortified by the possession of legs
which have iron rods concealed in them, these iron rods terminating
in stout grip-hooks, with which she takes hold on mother earth with an
expression that seems to say,--

'This rock shall fly
From its firm base as soon as I.'

When I start out in the afternoon, Mrs. Bobby frequently asks me where I
am going. I always answer that I have not made up my mind, though what
I really mean to say is that Jane has not made up her mind. She never
makes up her mind until after I have made up mine, lest by some unhappy
accident she might choose the very excursion that I desire myself.

Chapter XXI. I remember, I remember.

For example, I wish to visit St. Bridget's Well, concerning which there
are some quaint old verses in a village history:--

'Out of thy famous hille,
There daylie springyeth,
A water passynge stille,
That alwayes bringyeth
Grete comfort to all them
That are diseased men,
And makes them well again
To prayse the Lord.

'Hast thou a wound to heale,
The wyche doth greve thee;
Come thenn unto this welle;
It will relieve thee;
Nolie me tangeries,
And other maladies,
Have there theyr remedies,
Prays'd be the Lord.'

St. Bridget's Well is a beautiful spot, and my desire to see it is a
perfectly laudable one. In strict justice, it is really no concern of
Jane whether my wishes are laudable or not; but it only makes the
case more flagrant when she interferes with the reasonable plans of a
reasonable being. Never since the day we first met have I harboured a
thought that I wished to conceal from Jane (would that she could say as
much!); nevertheless she treats me as if I were a monster of caprice. As
I said before, I wish to visit St. Bridget's Well, but Jane absolutely
refuses to take me there. After we pass Belvern churchyard we approach
two roads: the one to the right leads to the Holy Well; the one to the
left leads to Shady Dell Farm, where Jane lived when she was a girl. At
the critical moment I pull the right rein with all my force. In vain:
Jane is always overcom