"Yes, a wife; why not? People say that a country clergyman should never be without a wife; and as for myself, I firmly think that they are right." "Every curate is to marry, then?" "But you are not a curate." "I should only have the income of a curate. And where should I put a wife? The house is full of women already. Who would come to such a house as this?" "There is Adela; would not she come if you asked her?" "Adela!" said the young vicar. And now his walk had brought him to the further end of the table; and there he remained for a minute or two. "Adela!" "Yes, Adela," said Bertram. "What a life my mother would lead her! She is fond of her now; very. But in that case I know that she would hate her." "If I were you, I would make my wife the mistress of my house, not my mother." "Ah! you do not understand, George." "But perhaps you do not like Adela--perhaps you could not teach yourself to love her?" "Perhaps not," said Wilkinson. "And perhaps she could not teach herself to like me. But, ah! that is out of the question." "There is nothing between you and Adela then?" asked Bertram. "Oh, no; nothing." "On your honour, nothing?" "Nothing at all. It is quite out of the question. My marrying, indeed!" And then they took their bedroom candlesticks and went to their own rooms. CHAPTER XII. THE WOUNDED DOE. It was a weary, melancholy household just then, that of Hurst Staple, and one may almost wonder that Bertram should have remained there; but still he did remain. He had been there a fortnight, when he learnt that in three days' time Adela was to go to Littlebath. She was to go down with Miss Baker; and was to remain there with her, or with Miss Todd if Miss Baker should go back to Hadley, till her own aunt should have returned. "I don't know why you should be in such a hurry to get to Littlebath," said Mrs. Wilkinson. "We have been very glad to have you; and I hope we have shown it." As Arthur had evinced no symptoms of making love to Miss Gauntlet, the good lady had been satisfied, and now she felt somewhat slighted that her hospitality was not more valued. But Adela explained in her own soft manner that it would be better for her to leave that neighbourhood; that her heart was sore there; that her sorrow for her father would be lighter if she were away. What hypocrites women are! Even Ophelia in her madness would pretend that she raved for her murdered father, when it was patent to all the world that she was mad for love for Hamlet. And now Adela must leave Hurst Staple because, forsooth, her poor old father lay buried at West Putford. Would not ten words have quieted that ghost for ever? But then, what is the use of a lady's speech but to conceal her thoughts? Bertram had spoken to Arthur about Caroline's marriage, but he had as yet said no word on the subject to any one else. Mrs. Wilkinson had tried him once or twice, but in vain. He could not bare his bosom to Mrs. Wilkinson.