t he
would ever be able to shake her off. She haunted him, asleep or awake,
at his meals and at his books, in his quiet lodging or when he stole out
for a solitary walk. He tried to persuade himself that he exaggerated
his trouble, and that there were plenty of men under similar
circumstances who would not allow their peace of mind to be disturbed.
But if he was weaker than others, that did not make his pain less
bitter. He feared her, and dreaded the fulfilment of her threats; yet
not so much on his own account as because they were directed against
Lettice.

It was no consolation to him to think that the law would punish
her--that the police would remove her as a drunken brawler--that the
courts could give him his divorce, or perhaps shut her up as a madwoman.
What good would even a divorce be to him if she had slandered Lettice,
blackened his character, alienated all whom he loved, and remained alive
to be the curse and poison of his existence?

As he pondered these things in his heart, the trouble which he had
fought off when he came down into the country that morning returned upon
him with renewed force. He had fled from town to escape from the agony
of shame and disgust which she had once more inflicted on him, and he
groaned aloud as he thought of what had happened in the last few days.

"I think I must have a touch of the gout," he said, turning round to
where his aunt was sitting, with a pleasant smile on his face. "It
catches me sometimes with such a sudden twinge that I cannot help crying
out like that."

Aunt Bessy looked hard at him, and shook her head; but she said nothing.

Soon after that, Alan went away; and he had not been gone half-an-hour,
when there came a gentle rap at the cottage door.

Mrs. Bundlecombe opened it at once, and found, as she had expected, that
the visitor was none other than our old friend Milly. Aunt Bessy had had
a few minutes to prepare herself for this scene, and was therefore able
to comport herself, as she imagined, with proper dignity. Affecting not
to see the pretty hand which was held out to her, she started back,
looked inquisitively into the other's face, and then cried out, as she
turned her head round upon her shoulders, "Well, Martha! Martha Chigwin!
Here is an old acquaintance come to see us. Emily Harrington, love, Mrs.
Harrington's grand-daughter, who went to live with Miss Campion in
London. Well, you did surprise me!" she said in a more quiet voice.
"Come in