nbury, and Priscilla, and her sister, that she had received a
letter from Colonel Osborne. She felt that the colour had come to her
cheek, and that she could not even walk out of the room as though the
letter had been a matter of indifference to her.

And would it have been a matter of indifference had there been nobody
there to see her? Mrs. Trevelyan was certainly not in love with
Colonel Osborne. She was not more so now than she had been when her
father's friend, purposely dressed for the occasion, had kissed her
in the vestry of the church in which she was married, and had given
her a blessing, which was then intended to be semi-paternal,--as from
an old man to a young woman. She was not in love with him,--never
would be, never could be in love with him. Reader, you may believe
in her so far as that. But where is the woman, who, when she is
neglected, thrown over, and suspected by the man that she loves, will
not feel the desire of some sympathy, some solicitude, some show of
regard from another man? This woman's life, too, had not hitherto
been of such a nature that the tranquillity of the Clock House at
Nuncombe Putney afforded to her all that she desired. She had been
there now a month, and was almost sick from the want of excitement.
And she was full of wrath against her husband. Why had he sent her
there to break her heart in a disgraceful retirement, when she had
never wronged him? From morning to night she had no employment, no
amusement, nothing to satisfy her cravings. Why was she to be doomed
to such an existence? She had declared that as long as she could
have her boy with her, she would be happy. She was allowed to have
her boy; but she was anything but happy. When she received Colonel
Osborne's letter,--while she held it in her hand still unopened, she
never for a moment thought that that could make her happy. But there
was in it something of excitement. And she painted the man to herself
in brighter colours now than she had ever given to him in her former
portraits. He cared for her. He was gracious to her. He appreciated
her talents, her beauty, and her conduct. He knew that she deserved
a treatment very different from that accorded to her by her husband.
Why should she reject the sympathy of her father's oldest friend,
because her husband was madly jealous about an old man? Her husband
had chosen to send her away, and to leave her, so that she must act
on her own judgment. Acting on her own judgment,