rself that she cared for him the least in the
world, till he'd come here and spoken out straight, like a man as he
is. I tell you what, Dorothea, I'd go to London, on my knees to him,
if I could bring him back to her! I would. And if he comes here, I
will go to him."

"Oh, mother!"

"I know he loves her. He's not one of your inconstant ones that take
up with a girl for a week or so and then forgets her. But she has
offended him, and he's stubborn. She has offended him at my bidding,
and it's my doing;--and I'd humble myself in the dust to bring him
back to her;--so I would. Never tell me of her not thinking of him.
I tell you, Dorothea, she'll think of him always not because she has
loved him, but because she has been brought to confess her love."

Mrs. Ray was so strong in her mingled passion and grief, that Mrs.
Prime made no attempt to rebuke her. The daughter was indeed quelled
by her mother's vehemence, and felt that for the present the subject
of Rachel's love and Rachel's lover was not a fitting one for the
exercise of her own talents as a preacher. The tragedy had progressed
beyond the reach of her preaching. Mrs. Ray protested that Rachel
had been right throughout, and that she herself had been wrong only
when she had opposed Rachel's wishes. Such a view of the matter was
altogether at variance with that entertained by Mrs. Prime, who was
still of opinion that young people shouldn't be allowed to please
themselves, and who feared the approach of any lover who came with
lute in hand, and with light, soft, loving, worldly words. Men
and women, according to her theory, were right to marry and have
children; but she thought that such marriages should be contracted
not only in a solemn spirit, but with a certain dinginess of
solemnity, with a painstaking absence of mirth, that would divest
love of its worldly alloy. Rachel had gone about her business in a
different spirit, and it may almost be said that Mrs. Prime rejoiced
that she had failed. She did not believe in broken hearts; she did
believe in the efficacy of chastisement; and she thought that on the
whole the present state of affairs would be beneficial to her sister.
Had she been possessed of sufficient power she would now, on this
occasion, have preached her sermon again as she had preached it
before; but her mother's passion had overcome her, and she was unable
to express her convictions.

"I hope that she will be better soon," she said.

"I hope sh