‘Why should I insinuate--and what can I say? James was going away, because he could not make up his mind to give up going to her; but now--he means to stay.’ ‘So that is it!’ said Miss Charity. She was not quite decorous in all her ways, but took the privilege of her age, and often shocked her more scrupulous niece. She uttered a sound which was not unlike a low whistle of mingled astonishment and amusement. ‘So that is what it is! These men with broken hearts are _incroyable_, Cherry. And will she have him, I wonder?’ ‘Have him?’ Miss Cherry echoed, with something which from her gentle lips was like scorn. She was over severe in this case as naturally as in other cases she was over-charitable. ‘She had not seen her husband for I don’t know how many years--there cannot be any very great grief on his account. And James goes there--every night.’ ‘Ah! but I wonder if they’ll care to marry,’ said the old lady--‘that’s different--I should think they would prefer not to marry----’ ‘Aunt Charity! James may be weak but he is not wicked. He would not do such a thing----’ ‘You are a little old maid, and you don’t know anything about it,’ cried Miss Charity, peremptorily. She was an old maid herself, to speak by the book--but she thought she did understand. Miss Cherry said nothing of her other trouble. She went and got her knitting meekly, and settled down in the old way as if she had never left the Hill. Well! it was home, and this was her natural life--but when her old aunt, who was now quite strong again, went briskly out to the garden to look after the flowers and her gardener, Miss Cherry let her hands fall into her lap, and felt the stillness penetrate to her soul. The troubles of the Square, the commotions and displeasures, Cara who would not open her heart--saucy Oswald who smiled in her face and defied her--poor Edward with his disappointment, and even James, who according to all appearance was going to marry again;--how angry she had been with them! how she had felt their different faults, crying to herself bitterly over them--and yet how she missed them! That was life--this--this was _home_--which was quite a different thing. It was very wicked of her, very ungrateful to God who had given her such a lovely house, such a good kind aunt, nobody to trouble or disturb her; very ungrateful, very wicked. Had she not everything that heart could desire? and peace and quiet to enjoy it. Miss Cherry acknowledged all this--and cried. How still it was! nothing moving, nothing happening--and yet, ungrateful woman, to be so well off and not to appreciate it! What could she wish for more?--indeed, Mrs. Burchell thought that she had a great deal too much, and that it was sinful for an unmarried woman without a family to be so well off as Miss Cherry was.