It would too much lengthen our sketch to describe the whole process and progress of the estrangement—for an estrangement it became. Bernard’s discussions upon architecture quite ruined in the eyes of Margaret the humble dwelling which had once seemed to her a palace. As she suggested this and that and the other impossible change in the original plan, and treated poor Simon’s cherished notions with ill-disguised superciliousness, he was grieved to perceive in all this, that he as well as the house, was daily growing less and less in her estimation. And the villagers began now to perceive the growing coolness. It made the judicious sad; the thoughtless sneered, the friends of Simon were angry. And at last he became angry himself; or at least his feelings approached as near to anger as the love he still felt would admit; and he looked anxiously forward to the time when the departure of the dangerous guest would release Margaret from her hallucination. Summer passed away, and the foliage commenced to wear its autumn hue. Long before this Simon had taken it for granted that his house would have been finished and furnished, and that his wife would have been busy with him, perfecting their winter comforts. But now things began to wear the aspect of a house begun without counting the cost. There was a delay in the few finishing touches which alone remained to perfect the building. A step here, and a pale there were ready for their places, but still stood unadjusted. The gate which had been tacked up, waiting for bolts and hinges, still waited. Dust blew over the door-stone, and all looked like neglect. Simon Gray was no more seen daily at the building; indeed he was scarcely seen abroad at all, and when he did make his appearance, it was with an aspect so wan and woful, that men saw he had a broken-heart. The student had gone from the village. Margaret, who had grieved the good people by a flirtation with him which had grown more and more open and unblushing, was now seldom met. The whole vicinage, so cheerful and pleasant in the spring, appeared to have had a spell cast over it; and the people—for in a village men sympathize with each other—looked as if a heavy secret lay at all their hearts; as if they knew more than they would speak, and feared more than they knew.