Of course there was weeping. Heather could not so soon forget her own first-born as to forbear shedding tears at sight of Bessie’s baby; and then Bessie cried, and, finally, the autocrat yelled, which ebullition of feeling did more towards restoring the mental equilibrium of the two ladies than one of the Church homilies or a charge from the Archbishop of Canterbury could have done. And still Heather asked no questions, while Bessie, having brought in her boy’s cradle, sat rocking him to sleep. Mrs. Dudley, spite of that child, the mean lodgings, the tangible wedding-ring, refrained from cross-examination. In an earlier part of this story, it has been stated that Squire Dudley’s wife knew when to keep a discreet silence, but it has not been stated that she frequently did not know when to speak. She was sensitive to a fault; and so now, though she felt dying to know, and Bessie sat longing to tell, there ensued a silence which the latter at length broke with— “Heather, why is it that you have never reproached me? how does it happen you had not a single hard word—nothing but love, and tears, and kisses for me, who repaid your kindness with such bitter ingratitude?” “My darling! why should I reproach you?” Heather answered. “What am I that I should be hard upon you, _however it may be_?” “And how do you think it is, Heather?” asked her friend, turning from the child, now fast asleep; “what is your opinion about the matter?” “I would rather not form any,” was the reply. “But you must, dear,” Bessie declared; “you are thinking even now about me. What is the conclusion at which you have arrived?” “I was only marvelling!” Mrs. Dudley answered. “If you are married, where is your husband—why are you here? if you are not married—oh! Bessie, sweet, forgive me!” “Forgive you, Heather!” Bessie answered, “forgive you! If you think even the implication of such a misfortune so hurtful to me, what will the reality prove to you, Heather? I am not a married woman, spite of this—and this”—she pointed to ring and infant—“I am no more married in the eye of the law, than I was when I left Berrie Down!” “God help you!” Heather murmured, softly. “Ay, God help me, indeed!” Bessie repeated. “Sometimes, sitting here alone, I think He has dealt with me very hardly; but, then, I look at my child and grow patient. I want to tell you my story, if it will not weary you.” “Weary me!” Heather exclaimed.