Mrs Fred made her way up-stairs and retired
from the field. Nettie woke with a startled consciousness out of her
dreams, to perceive that here was the process of iteration begun which
drives the wisest to do the will of fools. She woke up to it for a
moment, and, raising her drooping head, watched her sister make her way,
with her handkerchief in her hand, and the broad white bands of her cap
streaming over her shoulders, to the door. Susan stole a glance round
before she disappeared, to catch the startled glance of that resolute
little face, only half woke up, but wholly determined. Though Mrs Fred
dared not say another word at that moment, she disappeared full of the
conviction that her arrow had told, and that the endless persistence
with which she herself, a woman and a fool, was gifted, need only be
duly exercised to win the day. When Susan was gone, that parting arrow
did quiver for a moment in Nettie's heart; but the brave little girl
had, for that one night, a protection which her sister wist not of.
After the door closed, Nettie fell back once more into that hour of
existence which expanded and opened out the more for every new approach
which memory made to it. Sweet nature, gentle youth, and the Magician
greater than either, came round her in a potent circle and defended
Nettie. The woman was better off than the man in this hour of their
separation, yet union. He chafed at the consolation which was but
visionary; she, perhaps, in that visionary, ineffable solacement found
a happiness greater than any reality could ever give.

CHAPTER XIII.

It was some months after the time of this conversation when a man, unlike
the usual aspect of man in Carlingford, appeared at the inn with a
carpet-bag, and asked his way to St Roque's Cottage. Beards were not
common in those days: nobody grew one in Carlingford except Mr Lake,
who, in his joint capacity of portrait-painter and drawing-master,
represented the erratic and lawless followers of Art to the imagination
of the respectable town. But the stranger who made his sudden appearance
at the Blue Boar wore such a forest of hair on the lower part of his
burly countenance as obliterated all ordinary landmarks in that region,
and by comparison made Mr Lake's dainty little mustache and _etceteras_
sink into utter propriety and respectableness. The rest of the figure
corresponded with this luxuriant feature; the man was large and burly,
a trifle too stout for a perfect