ot of my mind, Will. I would not let him put a foot
into our decent family, or have a claim of any kind on our sister."

"I have done what I thought best."

"I don't say it is best."

"And I don't ask for your opinion. Go to your own room, Brune, and
mind your own affairs."

And Brune, brought up in the religious belief of the natural supremacy
of the elder brother, went off without another word, but with a heart
full to overflowing of turbulent, angry thoughts.

In the morning Will went to see Mrs. Frostham. He told her of his
interview with Ulfar Fenwick, and begged her to help Aspatria with
such preparations as could be made. But neither to her nor yet to
Aspatria did he speak of Fenwick's avowed intention to leave his wife
after the ceremony. In the first place, he did not believe that
Fenwick would dare to give him such a cowardly insult; and then, also,
he thought that the sight of Aspatria's suffering would make him
tender toward her. William Anneys's simple, kindly soul did not
understand that of all things the painful results of our sins are the
most irritating. The hatred we ought to give to the sin or to the
sinner, we give to the results.

Surely it was the saddest preparation for a wedding that could be.
Will and Brune were "out." They did not speak to each other, except
about the farm business. Aspatria spent most of her time in her
own room with a sempstress, who was making the long-delayed
wedding-dress. The silk for it had been bought more than a year, and
it had lost some of its lustrous colour. Mrs. Frostham paid a short
visit every day, and occasionally Alice Frostham came with her. She
was a very pretty girl, gentle and affectionate to Aspatria; and
just because of her kindness Will determined at some time to make
her Mistress of Seat-Ambar.

But in the house there was a great depression, a depression that no
one could avoid feeling. Will gave no orders for wedding-festivities;
a great dinner and ball would have been a necessity under the usual
circumstances, but there were no arrangements even for a breakfast.
Aspatria wondered at the omission, but she did not dare to question
Will; indeed. Will appeared to avoid her as much as he could.

Really, William Anneys was very anxious and miserable. He had no
dependence upon Fenwick's promise, and he felt that if Fenwick
deceived him there was nothing possible but the last vengeance. He
had this thought constantly in his mind; and he was quietly