would
have been to involve Arnold (after all that he had sacrificed for her)
in the scandal which would inevitably follow--a scandal which would be
talked of in the neighborhood, and which might find its way to Blanche's
ears. White and cold, her eyes never moving from the table, she accepted
the landlady's implied correction, and faintly repeated the words: "My
husband."

Mistress Inchbare drew a breath of virtuous relief, and waited for what
Anne had to say next. Arnold came considerately to the rescue, and got
her out of the room.

"Never mind," he said to Anne; "I know what it is, and I'll see about
it. She's always like this, ma'am, when a storm's coming," he went on,
turning to the landlady. "No, thank you--I know how to manage her. Well
send to you, if we want your assistance."

"At yer ain pleasure, Sir," answered Mistress Inchbare. She turned, and
apologized to Anne (under protest), with a stiff courtesy. "No offense,
my leddy! Ye'll remember that ye cam' here alane, and that the hottle
has its ain gude name to keep up." Having once more vindicated "the
hottle," she made the long-desired move to the door, and left the room.

"I'm faint!" Anne whispered. "Give me some water."

There was no water on the table. Arnold ordered it of Mr.
Bishopriggs--who had remained passive in the back-ground (a model of
discreet attention) as long as the mistress was in the room.

"Mr. Brinkworth!" said Anne, when they were alone, "you are acting with
inexcusable rashness. That woman's question was an impertinence. Why did
you answer it? Why did you force me--?"

She stopped, unable to finish the sentence. Arnold insisted on her
drinking a glass of wine--and then defended himself with the patient
consideration for her which he had shown from the first.

"Why didn't I have the inn door shut in your face"--he asked, good
humoredly--"with a storm coming on, and without a place in which you can
take refuge? No, no, Miss Silvester! I don't presume to blame you for
any scruples you may feel--but scruples are sadly out of place with such
a woman as that landlady. I am responsible for your safety to Geoffrey;
and Geoffrey expects to find you here. Let's change the subject. The
water is a long time coming. Try another glass of wine. No? Well--here
is Blanche's health" (he took some of the wine himself), "in the
weakest sherry I ever drank in my life." As he set down his glass,
Mr. Bishopriggs came in with the water. Arnold hailed