her leaving Minnie so long without even a line: "What can I do?" she asked, irresolute; "my brother will not let me see her; I am waiting quietly till his strange humour pass away." "And meanwhile you leave Miss Dalzell under, I must say, an unwarrantable oppression, which will prey on her proud spirit, unsupported, uncomforted. She will unquestionably think herself deserted by all, and the consequences may be fatal." Skaife would not say more, or betray Miles even by a hint. Dorcas, acting upon this advice, wrote to Minnie, and Mrs. Gillett bore it--but the missive came too late. The girl's heart had brooded so long in silence, and supposed neglect, which, as far as Dorcas was concerned, had been want of decision, and that energy which might have brought Juvenal to reason, for her every thought had been her niece's; but she resigned herself too quietly to her brother's prohibition of visits. Dorcas said to herself, "I'll wait patiently--his humour will change--Minnie knows I love her." When, however, we are in trouble, a little _assurance_ of affectionate watching is very comforting--silence often breeds doubt--it did in Minnie's case. She was on one hand persecuted by Juvenal and Sylvia, and unsupported on the other; 'tis then not to be wondered at, if she threw all her confidence and affection on the one who so well returned her love--Tremenhere; and her aunt's letter fell cold, uncared for, from her hand, and the resolution to act for herself grew only stronger. While she was in this state, Tremenhere was silently watching all. When men are very much in love, they are very like the fabled bucket, through which every drop of water passed again as soon as drawn from the well. Juvenal had a pet groom--his right-hand man in all things--his factotum, and he certainly merited his master's confidence; but--he fell in love! and a sort of Montague and Capulet affair it was with a dairymaid at, and poor relation of, Farmer Weld's. This stout wench was in the confidence of her master, and a firm adherent of Tremenhere's, so she listened to the wooing of her lover, not from any persuasion of the little blind god, but simply to know all that was passing at Gatestone. It is not from evil propensities that servants always speak of their master's affairs, but because persons not gifted with imagination, speak everyday facts; thus groom Thomas, like the bucket in question, drew all from the well of his master's heart, to moisten the greedy clay of woman's curiosity; and, in return, he got chaff which blew away before the winds, of service to no one. Thomas, too, was very wise in his own conceit, and said to himself, "Poor gal, she's so much in love with me, she can't keep nothing to herself!" and he posted off to his master with accounts of letters received from Tremenhere from town, and, while he carried off his winnowings, Sally trudged home with many a good oat-cake at his expense. This continued about a week; and every night, owl-like, Miles