did like Bella best,
and although no bargain was made between them then and there,--and
such making of a bargain then and there would hardly have been
practicable,--it was understood that Mrs. French would not proceed to
extremities if Mr. Gibson would still make himself forthcoming as a
husband for the advantage of one of the daughters of the family.

So far Mr. Gibson had progressed towards a partial liberation from
his thraldom with a considerable amount of courage; but he was well
aware that the great act of daring still remained to be done. He
had suggested to Mrs. French that she should settle the matter with
Camilla,--but this Mrs. French had altogether declined to do. It
must, she said, come from himself. If she were to do it, she must
sympathise with her child; and such sympathy would be obstructive
of the future arrangements which were still to be made. "She always
knew that I liked Bella best," said Mr. Gibson,--still sobbing, still
tearing his hair, still pacing the room with his waistcoat torn open.
"I would not advise you to tell her that," said Mrs. French. Then
Mrs. French went home, and early on the following morning it was
thought good by Arabella that she also should pay a visit at Ottery
St. Mary's. "Good-bye, Cammy," said Arabella as she went. "Bella,"
said Camilla, "I wonder whether you are a serpent. I do not think
you can be so base a serpent as that." "I declare, Cammy, you do say
such odd things that no one can understand what you mean." And so she
went.

On that morning Mr. Gibson was walking at an early hour along the
road from Exeter to Cowley, contemplating his position and striving
to arrange his plans. What was he to do, and how was he to do it? He
was prepared to throw up his living, to abandon the cathedral, to
leave the diocese,--to make any sacrifice rather than take Camilla
to his bosom. Within the last six weeks he had learned to regard her
with almost a holy horror. He could not understand by what miracle
of self-neglect he had fallen into so perilous an abyss. He had long
known Camilla's temper. But in those days in which he had been beaten
like a shuttlecock between the Stanburys and the Frenches, he had
lost his head and had done,--he knew not what. "Those whom the God
chooses to destroy, he first maddens," said Mr. Gibson to himself
of himself, throwing himself back upon early erudition and pagan
philosophy. Then he looked across to the river Exe, and thought that
there was