e aspires to be," said Morewood; he was sneering as usual, but rather
at aspirations in general than at any unusual absurdity in May Gaston's;
thus at least the Dean understood him.

"You mean that that's at the bottom of the trouble?" he inquired, smiling
a little.

"Oh, yes," answered Morewood, weary of indicating what was so apparent.

"You've dived down to something in that picture; perhaps she has."

"Yes, she has." Morewood looked straight at the Dean as he added, "But I
can leave out the other things, you see. That's the difference."

"And she can't? No. That is the difference. She'll have to live with the
other things." He looked courageously at Morewood and ended, "We must
trust in God." Either the sincerity or the unexpectedness of the remark
kept Morewood silent.

No such ambition as these two imputed to her consciously animated May
Gaston. Just now she was content if she could persuade her mother that
people after all said nothing very dreadful (for what was said was always
more to Lady Attlebridge than what was true), could keep on something
like friendly relations with her sister, and could maintain a cheerful
view of her own position and of her experiment. Inevitably the hostility
of his future mother-in-law and of Fanny brought out the worst side of
Quisante's manners; in the effort to conciliate he almost fawned. May had
to find consolation in a growth of openness and simplicity towards
herself. And she had one notable triumph which more than anything else
brought her through the trial with her purpose unshaken and her faith
even a little strengthened. It was not a complete triumph, and in trying
to push it too far she suffered a slight rebuff; but there was hope to be
had from it, it seemed to open a prospect of successes more ample. She
made Quisante send back Aunt Maria's five hundred pounds before Mr.
Mandeville's operations had resulted either in safety or in gain.

"You see, she never gave it you to use in speculation," she had said. "It
isn't right, you must see it isn't. Have you got the money?"

"Yes; but I meant to buy you----"

"No, no, I wouldn't have it. Now do send it back. I know you see what I
mean." Her voice grew doubtful and imploring.

"Oh, yes, in a way. But I shan't lose it, you know."

"That doesn't make the least difference."

"If it pleases you, I'll send it back."

"Well, do," she said with a little sigh. The motive was not that which
she wished to rouse, but very