church-aisle, or erect a monument, and
devote herself to deeds of charity for the remainder of her days. To
that end she made inquiry of the excellent parson under whom she sat on
Sundays, at a vertical distance of twenty feet. But he could only adjust
his wig and tap his snuff-box; for such was the lukewarm state of
religion in those days, that not an aisle, steeple, porch, east window,
Ten-Commandment board, lion-and-unicorn, or brass candlestick, was
required anywhere at all in the neighbourhood as a votive offering from a
distracted soul--the last century contrasting greatly in this respect
with the happy times in which we live, when urgent appeals for
contributions to such objects pour in by every morning's post, and nearly
all churches have been made to look like new pennies. As the poor lady
could not ease her conscience this way, she determined at least to be
charitable, and soon had the satisfaction of finding her porch thronged
every morning by the raggedest, idlest, most drunken, hypocritical, and
worthless tramps in Christendom.

But human hearts are as prone to change as the leaves of the creeper on
the wall, and in the course of time, hearing nothing of her husband,
Barbara could sit unmoved whilst her mother and friends said in her
hearing, 'Well, what has happened is for the best.' She began to think
so herself; for even now she could not summon up that lopped and
mutilated form without a shiver, though whenever her mind flew back to
her early wedded days, and the man who had stood beside her then, a
thrill of tenderness moved her, which if quickened by his living presence
might have become strong. She was young and inexperienced, and had
hardly on his late return grown out of the capricious fancies of
girlhood.

But he did not come again, and when she thought of his word that he would
return once more, if living, and how unlikely he was to break his word,
she gave him up for dead. So did her parents; so also did another
person--that man of silence, of irresistible incisiveness, of still
countenance, who was as awake as seven sentinels when he seemed to be as
sound asleep as the figures on his family monument. Lord Uplandtowers,
though not yet thirty, had chuckled like a caustic fogey of threescore
when he heard of Barbara's terror and flight at her husband's return, and
of the latter's prompt departure. He felt pretty sure, however, that
Willowes, despite his hurt feelings, would have reappear