"And is she going to marry him?" Rachel asked, as soon as her sister was gone. "There's nothing settled as yet. Dorothea wants to keep her money in her own hands." "I don't think that can be right. If a woman is married the money should belong to the husband." "I suppose that's what Mr. Prong thinks;--at any rate, there's nothing settled. It seems to me that we know so little about him. He might go away any day to Australia, you know." "And did she say anything about--Mr. Rowan?" "Not a word, my dear." And that was all that was then said about Luke even between Rachel and her mother. How could they speak about him? Mrs. Ray also believed that he would be no more seen in Baslehurst; and Rachel was well aware that such was her mother's belief, although it had never been expressed. What could be said between them now,--or ever afterwards,--unless, indeed, Rowan should take some steps to make it necessary that his doings should be discussed? The Tuesday passed and the Wednesday, without any sign from the young man; and during these two sad days nothing was said at the cottage. On that Wednesday his name was absolutely not mentioned between them, although each of them was thinking of him throughout the day. Mrs. Ray had now become almost sure that he had obeyed his mother's behests, and had resolved not to trouble himself about Rachel any further; and Rachel herself had become frightened if not despondent. Could it be that all this should have passed over her and that it should mean nothing?--that the man should have been standing there, only three or four days since, in that very room, with his arm round her waist, begging for her love, and calling her his wife;--and that all of it should have no meaning? Nothing amazed her so much as her mother's firm belief in such an ending to such an affair. What must be her mother's thoughts about men and women in general if she could expect such conduct from Luke Rowan,--and yet not think of him as one whose falsehood was marvellous in its falseness! But on the Thursday morning there came a letter from Luke addressed to Rachel. On that morning Mrs. Ray was up when the postman passed by the cottage, and though Rachel took the letter from the man's hand herself, she did not open it till she had shown it to her mother. "Of course it's from him," said Rachel. "I suppose so," said Mrs. Ray, taking the unopened letter in her hand and looking at it. She spoke almost in a whisper, as though there were something terrible in the coming of the letter. "Is it not odd," said Rachel, "but I never saw his handwriting before? I shall know it now for ever and ever." She also spoke in a whisper, and still held the letter as though she dreaded to open it. "Well, my dear," said Mrs. Ray. "If you think you ought to read it first, mamma, you may." "No, Rachel. It is your letter. I do not wish you to imagine that I distrust you."