With the new-born instinct of rectitude within her she tried to see if there was any reasonable ground for the real dislike of her which now seemed to be in her husband's mind. With every desire to be honest, she could think of none except the fact that she had not answered to his rein. He could hardly resent her not loving him, for he had married her without asking that; and besides, what did he know of love, as she was now beginning to comprehend it? No, it was not that which he resented in her; it was the fact that, although she chose to conform to him in outward things, he had never obtained the mastery of her in the manner which, to his ideas, befitted the relationship of Lord and Lady Hurdly. She thought of the picture of his meek little mother and masterful-looking father. CHAPTER X Bettina had been left to the lonely idleness of her own reflections but a few days when the monotony of her life was broken by one of those sudden events which, by the vastness of their consequences, seem not only to change the face of nature for us, and the aspect of all the world without, but also to change ourselves, in our spirits and minds, so that we can never be the same creatures that we were before. She received a telegram announcing that Lord Hurdly had been killed in the hunting-field. Poor Bettina, with all her faults and limitations, had something of her mother's noble nature in her, and this element of her somewhat complicated individuality had been the part of her which had expanded most of late. Her first feelings, therefore, were unmingled pity and regret. She did not think of herself and of how all things would be changed for her. Her whole thought was of him who so long had existed in her mind as the image of pride and indomitable self-will, but who had now become, in one moment, the object of her deepest pity. She had scarcely ever thought of death in connection with him. He had seemed as sound as steel. She had never heard him speak of the least symptom of illness, and now the paper in her hand informed her that he was dead. How thankful she was that she had not spoken to him angrily in their last talk! How she wished that she had said just one kind word to him at parting! True, he had given her no opportunity; but if she had known-- Suddenly she burst into violent weeping, and in this condition they found her, with the telegram on the floor at her feet. "Who would have thought my lady would have taken it so hard?" said Mrs. Parlett, when the exciting news was heard down-stairs. "They was that 'aughty to one another before people! But it's them as feels the most, sometimes." This remark was addressed to Nora, in the hope of eliciting a response, but Nora excelled in the art of holding her tongue.