And after all--as Bella reflected, when hurrying along the road--she had no one to consider but herself, since it mattered very little what was said about her, so long as Cyril was true. She was at war with her aunt--if, indeed, Mrs. Vand was her aunt--she had no friend but Dora, and there was really no person whom she desired to conciliate. Under these circumstances, she took her courage in both hands and with a calm face, but with her heart in her mouth, she rapped at the door of Lister's lodgings. Luckily he had observed her from the window, and opened the door himself. "I am so glad to see you Bella," he said, shaking hands in a conventional manner, as the stout form of Mrs. Block appeared at the end of the passage, "for I was just coming round to propose a walk on the common." "It is a beautiful day," said Bella, likewise conventional. "Very. Wait until I get my hat and stick. Mrs. Block, if anyone calls, I am going to the common with Miss Huxham." "And a very lovely sweet walk it is," said Mrs. Block, coming nearer to see if Bella was dressed in sufficiently deep mourning for her presumed father, "as I said to Block, if he'd only make the money a man like him ought to make, I'd be strolling on that there common, dressed up as fine as nine-pence. But there, you never get what you want in this world, and ain't it dreadful, Miss Huxham, about poor Mr. Pence?" "Very dreadful!" assented Bella politely, then as Cyril was ready, she went with him out of the gate, leaving Mrs. Block looking after them. Luckily for the couple, Mrs. Block had nothing to say against the visit. Indeed it was in her heavy mind that Cyril, having failed to take Bella out as promised, had been called upon by a young lady weary of waiting. "So like a man," soliloquised Mrs. Block, standing on her door-step, broom in hand, "they never thinks, never, never! And if this Mr. Lister commences neglect afore marriage, what will it be when the honeymoon's over. Ah, poor Miss Huxham! what with her pa dying, and her aunt robbing, and him as should love her neglecting--it's a miserable life she'll have. Ah, well, there's always the grave to look forward to," and ending her soliloquy thus cheerfully, Mrs. Block entered the house and shut the door with a bang. Meanwhile the lovers, quite ignorant of Mrs. Block's opinion, walked along the village street, and soon emerged on to the common. They passed the cottage wherein Silas Pence lodged, and this recalled the episode of the so-called fit to Cyril, as he had heard all particulars from his garrulous landlady. "I'm sorry for Pence," said Cyril, glancing at the cottage. "Why?" asked Bella nervously.