All this had been up to the evening of the incidents named in our opening chapter. Then, for the first time, had a change come over Maria's feelings and manner. On leaving Mrs. Headley, she had retired to her apartments, endeavoring to prepare herself for the momentarily expected arrival of her husband, whom she longed, yet dreaded to meet. She received him with a restraint which she had great difficulty in disguising, and wept many bitter tears, as, anxiously remarking her changed and extraordinary manner, he looked reproachfully and fixedly at her, without, however, saying a word that was passing in his mind. "Nay, nay, Ronayne; you think me reserved, altered, to-day; but indeed I am not well. The cause you shall know later, not now--it would be premature. I am a bad dissembler, and cannot look gay when my heart is full of anguish to overwhelming; but, my love, I must entreat a very great favor of you, which I know you will not refuse." "Is there aught under heaven that I can refuse to my adored one?" returned Ronayne, tenderly clasping her to his breast; "no, Maria, you have a boon to ask, and the boon shall be granted." "After all, it is not a Very great deal," she remarked, with a sickly smile; "but I have a strong desire to ride to Hardscrabble to-morrow. You know it is long since I have been there, and I have a particular reason to visit it in the course of the afternoon to-morrow." Her voice trembled, and she felt ill at ease. Her husband looked grave. "Nay, Maria, is this wise? You know, as you have just said, that you have not visited that scene since the death of your father; wherefore now, and simply to reopen a fast-closing wound?" "It is for the reason," she said, "that I have so long neglected this duty that I am the more anxious to repair the seeming neglect." "Your first visit," remarked Ronayne, half reproachfully, "methinks ought to have been to the grave of your poor mother. You have not been over to the cottage since her death." Had an arrow passed through the heart of Mrs. Ronayne, it could not have imparted more exquisitely keen sensations than did that casual remark. She turned pale, but made no reply; nay, almost fell fainting on his bosom. "What, my soul's beloved, is the matter? Nay, pardon me for bringing up again the memory so suddenly upon your gentle thought! I should have used more caution in renewing the recollection of the past." "Say rather of the present," murmured Mrs. Ronayne, in a tone so low that she could not be distinctly heard by her husband. "Oh, this poor heart!" "You spoke, Maria?" "Oh, I did but repeat my dreamings to myself. I scarcely know what I said." "Well, love, since you desire to ride to Hardscrabble to-morrow, I will even meet your wishes; and yet I know not how it is, but something tells me that ill will grow out of this."