he pocket of each, and in one he
found an old letter which he read.

Beth withdrew on tiptoe, and went downstairs again, wondering at the
man. She took off her hat and jacket, and ensconced herself with the
newspaper in an easy-chair. Minna came presently with fragrant tea and
hot buttered toast, and talked cheerfully about some of her own
interests. Beth treated her servants like human beings, and rarely had
any trouble with them. She had learnt the art from Harriet, who had
awakened her sympathies, and taught her practically, when she was a
child, what servants have to suffer; and "well loved and well served"
exactly described what Beth was as a mistress. When Minna withdrew,
and Beth had had her tea and toast, she felt quite right again, and
read the paper with interest. The shock of the real trouble had ousted
the imaginary one for the moment.

The next morning, however, as she toiled with flushed face and weary
brain, stultifying her work with painful elaboration, she was seized
with another fit of jealous rage, just as she had been the day before.
Her mind in a moment, like a calm sea caught by a sudden tempest,
seethed with horrible suspicions of her husband. His gross ideas,
expressed in coarse language, had hitherto been banished from her mind
by her natural refinement; but now, like the works of a disordered
machine, whirling with irresponsible force, thoughts suggested by him
came crowding in the language he habitually used, and she found
herself accusing him with conviction of all she had ever heard others
accused of by him. For a little she pursued this turn of thought, then
all at once she jumped up and rushed downstairs, goaded again to
act--to avenge herself--to dog him down to one of his haunts, and
there confront him, revile him, expose him.

It was a tranquil grey day in early autumn, the kind of day, full of
quiet charm, which had always been grateful to Beth; but now, as she
stood on the doorstep, with wrinkled forehead, dilated eyes, and
compressed lips, putting her gloves on in feverish haste, she felt no
tranquillising charm, and saw no beauty in the tangled hedgerows
bright with briony berries, the tinted beeches, the Canadian poplars
whispering mysteriously by the watercourse at the end of the meadow,
the glossy iridescent plumes of the rooks that passed in little
parties silhouetted darkly bright against the empty sky; it was all
without significance to her; her further faculty was suspende