r that something stood between
them, something which took the reality and spontaneity out of his
demonstrations of affection.

Iver occupied himself with the picture of Mehetabel at the fountain.
It was his great pleasure to work thereon. If he was not engaged at
his canvas in the tavern, he was wandering in the direction of the
Punch-Bowl to make studies for pictures, so he said. His mother
saw that there was no prospect of retaining her son at the Ship
for long. What held him there was not love for her, desire to
recover lost ground with his father, not a clinging to his old
home, not a desire to settle and take up his father's work; it
was something else--she feared to give utterance to the thought
haunting her mind.

"You are a fool, old woman," said her husband to her one night.
"You and I might have been easy and happy in our old age had you
not meddled and made mischief. You always was a great person for
lecturin' about Providence, and it's just about the one thing you
won't let alone."

"What do you mean, Simon?" she asked, and her heart beat fast
with presage of what he would say.

"Why, Susan, if you had not thrust Mehetabel into the Broom-Squire's
arms when she didn't want to be there no more nor among brimbles,
then Iver would have taken her and all would have been peace."

"What makes you say that?" she asked, in a flutter of terror.

"Oh, I'll be bound it would have been so. Iver has been asking
all manner of questions about Matabel, and why she took Jonas.
I sed it was agin my wishes, but that you would have it, so
Matabel had to give in."

"Simon, why did you say that? You set the boy against me."

"I don't see that, Sanna. It is you who have put the fat in the
fire. If you try to turn a stream to run uphill, you will souse
your own field, and won't get the water to go where you drive it.
It's my belief that all the while he has been away, Iver has had
his mind set upon Matabel. I'm not surprised. You may go through
Surrey, and won't find her match. Now he comes home and finds that
you have spoiled his chance, with your meddlesomeness--and there'll
be the devil to pay, yet. That's my opinion."

The old man turned on his side and was asleep, but self-reproach
for what was past and doubt as to the future kept his wife awake
all night.

CHAPTER XIX.

BACK AGAIN.

Fever boiled in the heart of Mehetabel. A mill-race of ideas
rushed through her brain.

She found no rest in her house