she was still so countrified as to dislike and dread walking alone,
even in the quiet Belgravian regions, so that she was always relieved to
decide that the gray mist was such as could do no one any good, or that
she really was not well enough for a walk.

She did not know the use of change of scene, and the bracing effect
of resolution,--she had no experience of self-management, and had
not learnt that it was a duty not to let herself pine. Though most
conscientious, she had not yet grown up to understand religion as a
present comfort. To her it was a guide and an obligation, and as such
she obeyed its dictates, to the best of her power, but only as an
obedient child, without understanding the immediate reward in this
life, namely, confidence, support, and peace. It is a feeling generally
belonging to an age beyond hers, though only to be won by faithful
discipline. She was walking in darkness, and, by and by, light might
come. But there was one omission, for which she long after grieved; and
which, though she knew it not, added to her present troubles.

All heart and hope had been taken from her since she had been forbidden
to see her mother and sister. The present was dreary, the future
nothing but gloom and apprehension, and she had little to distract her
attention. She strove hard to fulfil what she knew were duties, her
household concerns and the readings she had fixed as tasks; but these
over, she did not try to rouse her mind from her cares; nor had she
perhaps the power, for her difficulties with the cook were too much for
her, and it was very trying to spend so many hours of the dingy London
day and long evening in solitude.

Her amusing books were exhausted, and she used to lie forlorn on the
sofa, with her needlework, hearing the roar of carriage-wheels, and,
her mind roaming from the perplexities of her accounts to her sad
forebodings and her belief in Arthur's coldness, till her heart seemed
ready to break,--and her tears gathered, first in solitary drops, then
in floods. She had no one to cheer her spirits, to share her hopes and
fears. Her plans and employments were tedious to her husband, and he
must not be troubled with them,--and so, locked up within herself, they
oppressed her with care and apprehension. In letter-writing there was
only pain; she could not bear to be supposed unwell or unhappy, and,
above all, dreaded saying what might lead to an offer from her mother
to come to her. Her letters b