What could it have been all along that she cared for? Not him, but what he had to bestow; and all that had been said on this subject came back to Arthur’s mind--the discussions beforehand, which made it apparent that Nancy had hoped to be my lady very soon; and her complaints after, that she was so little the better of the fine marriage she had made. These were trifles, but such trifles as turn honey itself into gall, and make all evils ten times worse. He was in very low spirits when he left England. When Durant spoke of his return, he shook his head. “It is much more likely that I will never come back,” he said. “Why should I come back? I shall be out of everybody’s way there.” “Arthur, you know there is nobody who wants you out of the way.” “I don’t know it; I know the reverse. I shall be out of _her_ way. She will be left in quiet. If I came here, I might not be able to put up with it, Durant. And how can they look at me at home without thinking what a mess I have made of everything? My poor father! I believe he feels it most of all--all the more for having so little to say.” “Come, come! Sir John will not break his heart.” “You don’t know him,” said Arthur, glad of a reason which would justify the desolate misery in his own. “Poor old governor! he feels it more than my mother does. She will storm at you, or mock at you, or cry over you, and get it out. But he says nothing; and the disappointment in me, the failure of me! I shouldn’t wonder if they broke his heart.” Arthur’s eyes grew red while he spoke. He was young enough to feel the tears in their fountains; but, poor boy! while he spoke of Sir John, it was Nancy of whom he thought. He loved her, and she thought nothing, except allowances and comforts, of him. She would allow him to pay her money, to share his income with her; but not to share his heart with her, and all his thoughts. These she did not want. Poor Arthur! if that would have done him any good, he would have laid down his head and wept. But as it was, he had to shake back indignantly into the depths all emotions which required stormy utterance. He could be sorry for his father, but he must not be sorry for himself.