If he abandoned his present position entirely, he must, logically, admit that he had no more right to her than the nearest man breaking stones in the road. She would stoop to bestow forgiveness, and then depart; and it dawned upon him that, embarrassing though her presence had now become, her absence would be worse. These few days of her sojourn had already wrought a subtle change in all about him. When he met Grover coming upstairs with a tray, her face wore a look of interest, of sympathy, which he had never before observed. She had taken to putting flowers about the rooms--a wholly new departure at Omberleigh. Only that morning he had caught Mrs. Wells half-way upstairs with a sheepish expression of countenance, and something concealed under her apron, which, on inquiry, was admitted to be kittens, the mistress having expressed a desire for their company. After the woman had passed, he lingered on the stairs, heard her admitted, heard the little spontaneous exclamation of pleasure which greeted the appearance of the babes. The chattering, laughing voices of Wells and Grover were blended with a faint mewing. It was all very childish, and as he went down he thought he scorned it. But if it were all to cease? These considerations, formless and not consciously held, were, as a fact, of more weight with him than even the other aspect of the question--the scandal that would arise, the talk that must ensue, the contemptuous pity that he might receive--should his marriage experiment abruptly terminate at the end of so brief a trial. Just then he saw no way to end the present situation. He must wait and allow it to develop. He must make further proof of the spotless integrity of his wife. She was not strong enough to face a scene as yet. He could not see clearly, his thoughts were confused. For the first time in twenty years he found himself no longer pursuing one aim with reckless disregard of everything else, but fumbling, hesitating, uncertain what to do. He was a J.P., and this was his day for sitting on the bench. He had a long way to drive to the court. It was an important occasion, since there had been considerable disorder in Hoadlam, a large manufacturing town, and many of those implicated came from his own district. Gaunt's knowledge of law was valuable to his fellow magistrates, and he had had the previous day a note from Lord St. Aukmund congratulating him on his marriage, but begging him not to let his honeymoon prevent him from attending that day. This note Gaunt enclosed with the bank-notes to his wife, telling her that he must be away all day. He added: _If Mrs. Ferris asks you again to go out with her, I should advise your accepting if you feel well enough._