e exposed her to sly
questions from her own sex, to the interchange of glances between female
visitors, as well as to the internal torture of doubt and suspense.

But what distracted her most was the view Mrs. Ryder took of the matter.

That experienced lady had begun to suspect some other woman was at the
bottom of Griffith's conduct; and her own love for Griffith was now
soured. Repeated disappointments and affronts, _spretaeque injuria
formae_, had not quite extinguished it, but had mixed so much spite with
it that she was equally ready to kiss or to stab him.

So she took every opportunity to instil into her mistress, whose
confidence she had won at last, that Griffith was false to her.

"That is the way with these men that are so ready to suspect others.
Take my word for it, Dame, he has carried your money to his leman. 'Tis
still the honest woman that must bleed for some nasty trollop or other."

She enforced this theory by examples drawn from her own observations in
families, and gave the very names; and drove Mrs. Gaunt almost mad with
fear, anger, jealousy, and cruel suspense. She could not sleep, she
could not eat; she was in a constant fever.

Yet before the world she battled it out bravely, and indeed none but
Ryder knew the anguish of her spirit, and her passionate wrath.

At last there came a most eventful day.

Mrs. Gaunt had summoned all her pride and fortitude, and invited certain
ladies and gentlemen to dine and sup.

She was one of the true Spartan breed, and played the hostess as well as
if her heart had been at ease. It was an age in which the host struggled
fiercely to entertain the guests; and Mrs. Gaunt was taxing all her
powers of pleasing in the dining-room, when an unexpected guest strolled
into the kitchen: the pedler, Thomas Leicester.

Jane welcomed him cordially, and he was soon seated at a table eating
his share of the feast.

Presently Mrs. Ryder came down, dressed in her best, and looking
handsomer than ever.

At sight of her, Tom Leicester's affection revived; and he soon took
occasion to whisper an inquiry whether she was still single.

"Ay," said she, "and like to be."

"Waiting for the master still? Mayhap I could cure you of that
complaint. But least said is soonest mended."

This mysterious hint showed Ryder he had a secret burning his bosom. The
sly hussy said nothing just then, but plied him with ale and flattery;
and, when he whispered a request for a private m