moves about silently, the pain on her brow deepening as chapel-time approaches.  At length the boy and girl go upstairs to be “got ready,” which means that they indue other garments yet more uncomfortable than those they already wear.  This process over, they descend again to the breakfast-room, and again sit there, waiting for the dread moment of departure.  The boy is more rebellious than usual; he presently drums with his feet, and even begins to whistle, very low, a popular air.  His sister looks at him, first with astonished reproach, then in dread.

Satis superque.  Again and again Miriam revived these images of the past.  And the more she thought of herself as a child, the less was she pleased with what her memory presented.  How many instances came back to her of hypocrisy before her father or mother, hypocrisy which, strangely enough, she at the time believed a merit, though perfectly aware of her own insincerity!  How many a time had she suffered from the restraints imposed upon her, and then secretly allowed herself indulgences, and then again persuaded herself that by severe attention to formalities she blotted out her sin!

But the worst was when Cecily Doran came to live in the house.  Cecily was careless in religion, had been subjected to no proper severity, had not been taught to probe her con science.  At once Miriam assumed an attitude of spiritual pride—­the beginning of an evil which was to strengthen its hold upon her through years.  She would be an example to the poor little heathen; she talked with her unctuously; she excited herself, began to find a pleasure in asceticism, and drew the susceptible girl into the same way.  They would privately appoint periods of fasting, and at several successive meals irritate their hunger by taking only one or two morsels; when faintness came upon them, they gloried in the misery.

And from that stage of youth survived memories far more painful than those of childhood.  Miriam shut her mind against them.

Her marriage came about in the simplest way; nothing easier to understand, granted these circumstances.  The friends of the family were few, and all people of the same religious sect, of the same commercial sphere.  Miriam had never spoken with a young man whom she did not in her heart despise; the one or two who might possibly have been tempted to think of her as a desirable wife were repelled by her austerity.  She had now a character to support; she had made herself known for severe devotion to the things of the spirit.  In her poor little world she could not submit to be less than pre-eminent, and only by the way of religion was pre-eminence to be assured.  When the wealthy and pious manufacturer sought her hand, she doubted for a while, but was in the end induced to consent by the reflection that not only would she be freer, but at the same time enjoy a greatly extended credit and influence.  Her pride silenced every other voice.