“If he had only spoken to some experienced friend on the subject—­if he had only spoken to me—­I am sure it could have been better managed.  In the meantime, if you have no objection to sharing Eliza’s room, we will be glad to keep you here for the remainder of your stay in Edinburgh.  You had better not go home with your cousin to-night.”

Jane paused for a few minutes—­many bitter thoughts passed through her mind.  “I am much obliged to you for your kind offer, but I do not think I can accept it.  If I have made a mistake, it has been committed already, and cannot be undone.  To-night, I will write my application to the directors of the ----- Asylum; tomorrow I will be on my way to Cross Hall.  I cannot, after such a day as this, collect my thoughts sufficiently in a strange house, among strangers, to do myself justice in my application, nor can I bear to let my cousin know that his brotherly kindness, and my sisterly confidence, may be misunderstood and misinterpreted.  I have no mother, and no adviser.  I had feared that perhaps the direct or indirect assistance of food and lodging for two days might peril my cousin’s inheritance,—­though Miss Thomson thought there was no danger of that either,—­but I never imagined that any one would think the less of me for accepting it.  If you do not tell him, he need never know it; for I am sure it was the last idea he could have entertained.”

What sad earnest eyes Jane turned on Mrs. Rennie!—­she could not help being touched with her expression and her appeal.  A vision of her own Eliza—­without friends—­without a mother—­doing something as ill-advised, and feeling very acutely when a stranger told her of it, gave a distinctness to Jane’s present suffering that, without that little effort of imagination, she could not have realized.  Besides, she had a great wish to think highly of Mr. Hogarth, and to please him; and the certainty that he would be extremely pained and, perhaps, offended by her suggestion that he had compromised his cousin’s position by his good-natured invitation, had its influence.

“What you say is very reasonable, Miss Melville, but you forget that to-morrow is Sunday.  You would not travel on the Sabbath, I hope?”

“I seem to have forgotten the days of the week in this terrible whirl,” said Jane.  “I would rather not travel on Sunday, but this seems a case of necessity.”

“Not so,” said Mrs. Rennie, kindly.  “Come and go to church with us to-morrow forenoon, and dine with us; if you feel then that you would prefer to stay here, you can easily manage to do so without making your cousin suspect anything.  If you still are anxious to go home, you can do that on Monday morning; but I fancy Tuesday is quite early enough to send in your application.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Rennie,” said Jane.  “I am very much obliged to you indeed for your kindness, and I think I will avail myself of it; but to-night—­to-night—­I must have some quiet and solitude.”