“We should all make some exertion like that in our sorrow, trusting to God’s kindness to relieve us.  You too, Hermione, should determine also; but not yet, my dear.  At first it is better to let sorrow have its way.”

“But he will determine at once.  You remember when Meeny went.”  Meeny had been a little girl who had been born before the boy, and who had died when little more than twelve months old.  “He did not expect that; but then he only shook his head, and went out of the room.  He has never spoken to me one word of her since that.  I think he has forgotten Meeny altogether—­even that she was ever here.”

“He cannot forget the boy who was his heir.”

“Ah, that is where it is.  He will say words to me which would make you weep if you could hear them.  Yes, my darling was his heir.  Archie will marry now, and will have children, and his boy will be the heir.  There will be more division and more quarrels, for Hugh will hate his brother now.”

“I do not understand why.”

“Because he is so hard.  It is a pity he should ever have married, for he wants nothing that a wife can do for him.  He wanted a boy to come after him in the estate, and now that glory has been taken from him.  Mrs. Clavering, I often wish that I could die.”

It would be bootless here to repeat the words of wise and loving counsel with which the elder of the two ladies endeavored to comfort the younger, and to make her understand what were the duties which still remained to her, and which, if they were rightly performed, would, in their performance, soften the misery of her lot.  Lady Clavering listened with that dull, useless attention which on such occasions sorrow always gives to the prudent counsels of friendship; but she was thinking ever and always of her husband, and watching the moment of his expected return.  In her heart she wished that he might not come on that evening.  At last, at half-past nine, she exerted herself to send away her visitor.

“He will be here soon, if he comes to-night,” Lady Clavering said, “and it will be better that he should find me alone.”

“Will it be better?”

“Yes, yes.  Cannot you see how he would frown and shake his head if you were here?  I would sooner be alone when he comes.  Good-night.  You have been very kind to me; but you are always kind.  Things are done kindly always at your house, because there is so much love there.  You will write to Julia for me.  Good-night.”  Then Mrs. Clavering kissed her and went, thinking as she walked home in the dark to the rectory, how much she had to be thankful in that these words had been true which her poor neighbor had spoken.  Her house was full of love.

Chapter XXIII

Sir Hugh’s Return