“Do wait a little, Arnold. I can’t have Milton crammed down my throat in that way. Besides I had something to say. Did I tell you that I consulted my uncle about Anne? I don’t think I did. I caught him alone in this very room. I told him all I have told you. I showed him Anne’s letter. And I said, ‘What do you think?’ He took a little time (and a great deal of snuff) before he would say what he thought. When he did speak, he told me I might quite possibly be right in suspecting Anne’s husband to be a very abominable person. His keeping himself out of my way was (just as I thought) a suspicious circumstance, to begin with. And then there was the sudden extinguishing of the candles, when I first went in. I thought (and Mrs. Inchbare thought) it was done by the wind. Sir Patrick suspects it was done by the horrid man himself, to prevent me from seeing him when I entered the room. I am firmly persuaded Sir Patrick is right. What do _you_ think?” “I think we had better go on,” said Arnold, with his head down over his book. “We seem to be forgetting Milton.” “How you do worry about Milton! That last bit wasn’t as interesting as the other. Is there any love in Paradise Lost?” “Perhaps we may find some if we go on.” “Very well, then. Go on. And be quick about it.” Arnold was _so_ quick about it that he lost his place. Instead of going on he went back. He read once more: “In the beginning how the heavens and earth. Rose out of Chaos or if Sion hill--” “You read that before,” said Blanche. “I think not.” “I’m sure you did. When you said ‘Sion hill’ I recollect I thought of the Methodists directly. I couldn’t have thought of the Methodists, if you hadn’t said ‘Sion hill.’ It stands to reason.” “I’ll try the next page,” said Arnold. “I can’t have read that before--for I haven’t turned over yet.” Blanche threw herself back in her chair, and flung her handkerchief resignedly over her face. “The flies,” she explained. “I’m not going to sleep. Try the next page. Oh, dear me, try the next page!” Arnold proceeded: “Say first for heaven hides nothing from thy view. Nor the deep tract of hell say first what cause. Moved our grand parents in that happy state--” Blanche suddenly threw the handkerchief off again, and sat bolt upright in her chair. “Shut it up,” she cried. “I can’t bear any more. Leave off, Arnold--leave off!” “What’s, the matter now?”