mother. Is it not from such meetings that
shame comes,--shame, and sorrow, and sin? You love her dearly, and so
do I; and are we therefore to allow her to be a castaway? Those whom
you love you must chastise. I have no authority over her,--as she has
told me, more than once already,--and therefore I say again, that
unless all this be stopped, I must leave the cottage. Good night,
now, mother. I hope you will speak to her in earnest." Then Mrs.
Prime took her candle and went her way.

For ten minutes the mother sat herself down, thinking of the
condition of her youngest daughter, and trying to think what words
she would use when she found herself in her daughter's presence.
Sorrow, and Shame, and Sin! Her child a castaway! What terrible words
they were! And yet there had been nothing that she could allege in
answer to them. That comfortable idea of a decent husband for her
child had been banished from her mind almost before it had been
entertained. Then she thought of Rachel's eyes, and knew that she
would not be able to assume a perfect mastery over her girl. When
the ten minutes were over she had made up her mind to nothing, and
then she also took up her candle and went to her room. When she
first entered it she did not see Rachel. She had silently closed the
door and come some steps within the chamber before her child showed
herself from behind the bed. "Mamma," she said, "put down the candle
that I may speak to you." Whereupon Mrs. Ray put down the candle, and
Rachel took hold of both her arms. "Mamma, you do not believe ill of
me; do you? You do not think of me the things that Dorothea says? Say
that you do not, or I shall die."

"My darling, I have never thought anything bad of you before."

"And do you think bad of me now? Did you not tell me before I went
out that you would trust me, and have you so soon forgotten your
trust? Look at me, mamma. What have I ever done that you should think
me to be such as she says?"

"I do not think that you have done anything; but you are very young,
Rachel."

"Young, mamma! I am older than you were when you married, and older
than Dolly was. I am old enough to know what is wrong. Shall I tell
you what happened this evening? He came and met us all in the fields.
I knew before that he had come back, for the girls had said so, but
I thought that he was in Exeter when I left here. Had I not believed
that, I should not have gone. I think I should not have gone."

"Then you ar