Truly, if she spent half what she said, 'tis no wonder her husband became bankrupt, poor man. Then she took a great fit of devotion—would go to matins and vespers and all other services at a convent church not far-away; kept fasts and vigils, and had even made up her mind to receive from the priest of that house the widow's mantle and ring; * but a suitor from London turning up in the shape of a smart young draper, she changed her mind, married him on the instant, and went away to London, to the great relief of her own family, and the scandal of the priest aforesaid. This I have learned since. I was too young to know much about it at the time, only I well remember how glad we were to see her go. * It was formerly a custom for widows who did not desire to marry again to make a vow to that effect, at which time they received a mantle and ring. A breach of this vow was counted very disgraceful. It was now drawing toward midsummer, and my health being fairly settled again, I was sent for home. I parted with my kind hostess and her family with real regret, which I fear was not altogether unselfish. At the farm I was quite a great lady, petted and waited on, and treated with great consideration. At home, I was only little Loveday—a child of the family, taking my place with the others, having my daily tasks, and checked and reproved if I did them amiss. I began to be sullen and discontented, careless about my lessons and my work, and pert when spoken to. One day my uncle heard me give my Aunt Joyce a very saucy answer (which I had never dared to do had I known he was by). He ordered me at once to beg her pardon, and when transported with passion I refused, he punished me severely, and ordered that I should be kept in penitence till I submitted. I dare say I should have done the same thing in his place, and yet I do not think it was the best way in my own case. I had enough of my family spirit to know how to cherish a grudge. I thought my aunt was wrong in blaming me (as indeed she was, for I am confident I never touched the glass she charged me with breaking); my Corbet blood was roused, and I would not give way. I had my meals by myself for several days, and was not spoken to by any of the family.