"Yes; but then she did not know it," said Lady Henmarsh. "I suspected always that she knew nothing about her husband's affairs; and Streightley admitted that she did not. No, no, worse luck for him; he declares that it was his own fault that she left him; and I know Katharine well. She has, as her poor father used to say, 'a devil of a temper;' and she is as proud as Lucifer, and gave me an immense deal of trouble; but I am perfectly sure, if she had known the truth, and the trouble Streightley was in, she would have forgiven him." "Forgiven him what, Lady Henmarsh? Do you know?--did he ever tell you?" "No, never. He only said he was to blame--that she had a cause of complaint against him;--you know exactly what he said. However, she is the chief sufferer by her folly, and it is no concern of ours." Hester was a remarkably keen observer, even where she was much less interested than, since her fatal revelation of her jealousy to Gordon Frere, she had been about every thing which concerned Katharine; and her quick observation now revealed to her that Lady Henmarsh knew more than she was willing to tell, and was very anxious to conceal her knowledge. She did not allow her discovery to appear; and soon after the two ladies separated to dress for dinner. An hour later Mrs. Frere stood at one of the windows of the long drawing-room, gazing thoughtfully out with eyes that took no heed of the objects they saw. She was beautifully dressed in sheeny satin and soft rich lace; she looked proud, composed, and beautiful; and the thoughts she was thinking were these: "She will know sooner or later that misfortunes have come on him, and she will return. Then Gordon will see her again, when the little love he ever gave me is dead; when he has become her husband's friend; when there is no confidence between him and me--and _she_ has been the means of its withdrawal. Yes, it was she, not myself, not my betrayal of my feelings--how could I help that? how could any wretched creature like me avoid that?--it was _she!_ he is always thinking of her. What is his friendship for Robert but love of her? I know he works for him; he goes to him whenever he goes to town; and ah, how often he goes! He does not like this place--I can see it--because it ought to be hers--forsooth, ought to be hers! and bought with my money. But he does not care for my money, and he does not care for me. _I wish--I wish I was dead!_" You see Hester's success had been complete; and the mistress of Middlemeads, reigning in her rival's stead, must needs be perfectly happy. CHAPTER VII. A SPLIT IN THE CAMP. Town was getting empty, and business of every kind was getting slack, so that it chanced one day that Mr. Yeldham found himself writing letters at abnormal hours, and with no very pressing engagements on hand. He was just thinking what a pleasant thing a little leisure, not too pronounced, was, when his clerk rushed in, and announced "Mr. Thacker."