I will pass over the next three or four days very quickly, merely saying that Patience did not find them so pleasant as that first day after her engagement.  There was something in her lover’s manner—­something which at first she could not define—­which by degrees seemed to grate against her feelings.  He was sufficiently affectionate, that being a matter on which she did not require much demonstration; but joined to his affection there seemed to be—­; she hardly liked to suggest to herself a harsh word, but could it be possible that he was beginning to think that she was not good enough for him?  And then she asked herself the question—­was she good enough for him?  If there were doubt about that, the match should be broken off, though she tore her own heart out in the struggle.  The truth, however, was this,—­that he had begun that teaching which he had already found to be so necessary.  Now, had any one essayed to teach Patience German or mathematics, with that young lady’s free consent, I believe that she would have been found a meek scholar.  But it was not probable that she would be meek when she found a self-appointed tutor teaching her manners and conduct without her consent.

So matters went on for four or five days, and on the evening of the fifth day, Captain Broughton and his aunt drank tea at the parsonage.  Nothing very especial occurred; but as the parson and Miss Le Smyrger insisted on playing backgammon with devoted perseverance during the whole evening, Broughton had a good opportunity of saying a word or two about those changes in his lady-love which a life in London would require—­and some word he said also—­some single slight word, as to the higher station in life to which he would exalt his bride.  Patience bore it—­for her father and Miss Le Smyrger were in the room—­she bore it well, speaking no syllable of anger, and enduring, for the moment, the implied scorn of the old parsonage.  Then the evening broke up, and Captain Broughton walked back to Oxney Colne with his aunt.  ‘Patty,’ her father said to her before they went to bed, ’he seems to me to be a most excellent young man.’  ‘Dear papa,’ she answered, kissing him.  ’And terribly deep in love,’ said Mr. Woolsworthy.  ’Oh, I don’t know about that,’ she answered, as she left him with her sweetest smile.  But though she could thus smile at her father’s joke, she had already made up her mind that there was still something to be learned as to her promised husband before she could place herself altogether in his hands.  She would ask him whether he thought himself liable to injury from this proposed marriage; and though he should deny any such thought, she would know from the manner of his denial what his true feelings were.

And he, too, on that night, during his silent walk with Miss Le Smyrger, had entertained some similar thoughts.  ‘I fear she is obstinate’, he had said to himself, and then he had half accused her of being sullen also.  ‘If that be her temper, what a life of misery I have before me!’