coming ill in health under the burden of her troubles. Mr. Outhouse
was moody and wretched; and Mrs. Outhouse, though she did her best
to make her house comfortable to her unwelcome inmates, could not
make it appear that their presence there was a pleasure to her.
Nora understood better than did her sister how distasteful the
present arrangement was to their uncle, and was consequently very
uncomfortable on that score. And in the midst of that unhappiness,
she of course told herself that she was a young woman miserable and
unfortunate altogether. It is always so with us. The heart when it is
burdened, though it may have ample strength to bear the burden, loses
its buoyancy and doubts its own power. It is like the springs of a
carriage which are pressed flat by the superincumbent weight. But,
because the springs are good, the weight is carried safely, and they
are the better afterwards for their required purposes because of the
trial to which they have been subjected.

Nora had sent her lover away, and now at the end of three months
from the day of his dismissal she had taught herself to believe that
he would never come again. Amidst the sadness of her life at St.
Diddulph's some confidence in a lover expected to come again would
have done much to cheer her. The more she thought of Hugh Stanbury,
the more fully she became convinced that he was the man who as a
lover, as a husband, and as a companion, would just suit all her
tastes. She endowed him liberally with a hundred good gifts in the
disposal of which Nature had been much more sparing. She made for
herself a mental portrait of him more gracious in its flattery than
ever was canvas coming from the hand of a Court limner. She gave
him all gifts of manliness, honesty, truth, and energy, and felt
regarding him that he was a Paladin,--such as Paladins are in this
age, that he was indomitable, sure of success, and fitted in all
respects to take the high position which he would certainly win
for himself. But she did not presume him to be endowed with such a
constancy as would make him come to seek her hand again. Had Nora at
this time of her life been living at the West-end of London, and
going out to parties three or four times a week, she would have been
quite easy about his coming. The springs would not have been weighted
so heavily, and her heart would have been elastic.

No doubt she had forgotten many of the circumstances of his visit
and of his departure. Immedia