Timothy's contempt for Baskerville was not concealed. He even permitted himself a sly jest or two at the expense of the other's mental endowments; and these thrusts, while unfelt by the victim, stabbed Cora's breast somewhat keenly. Even Timothy's laughter, she told herself, was more sane and manly than Ned's. She fell into her own vice of contrasting the thing she had with the thing she had not, to the detriment of the former. It was an instinct with her to under-value her own possessions; but the instinct stopped at herself--an unusual circumstance. With herself and her attributes of mind and body, she never quarrelled; it was only her environment that by no possibility compared favourably with that of other people. Her mother, her sister, her brother, her betrothed, and her prospects--none but seemed really unworthy of Cora when dispassionately judged by herself. Now she weighed Timothy's decision against Ned's doubt, his knowledge against Ned's ignorance, his sense against Ned's nonsense. She felt the farmer's allusions, and she throbbed with discomfort because Ned did not also feel them and retort upon Mr. Waite in like manner. She told herself that the difference between them was the radical difference between a wise man and a fool. Then she fell back in self-defence of her own judgment, and assured herself that, physically, there could be no comparison, and that Ned had a better heart and would make a gentler husband. Timothy had admired her--she remembered that; but he was caution personified and, while he had considered, Ned had plunged. She strove to see this as a virtue in Ned. Yet Timothy's old attitude to her forbade any slighting of him. She remembered very well how, when he congratulated her on her engagement, he had pointedly praised Ned for one thing alone: his precipitation. A fault at other seasons may be a virtue in the love season. "I thought him not very clever," said Timothy on that occasion; "but now I see he was cleverer than any of us. Because he was too clever to waste a moment in getting what every other chap wanted. We learn these things too late." He said that and said it with great significance. It comforted Cora now to remember the circumstance. Whatever else Ned might not know, he knew a good deal about women; and that would surely make him by so much a better husband. Then her wits told her the opposite might be argued from this premise. She was not enjoying herself, and she felt glad when Waite left them. Anon Ned rallied her for lengthened taciturnity and even hinted, as a jest, that he believed she was regretting her choice. They turned presently and went back over Shaugh Moor to drink tea at the man's home. But upon the threshold Cora changed her mind. She pleaded headache and some anxiety about her health. "I've got a cold coming--else I wouldn't be so low-spirited," she said. "I'll get back through North Wood and go to bed early."