In her company he was composed and courteous; even when they were alone together, he did not exhibit a trace of melancholy.  Sober he seemed, as one who has recovered from a drunkenness and has determined to drink no more.  The idea struck her that he might be playing a part, but Tom Bakewell, in a private conversation they had, informed her that he had received an order from his young master, one day while boxing with him, not to mention the young lady’s name to him as long as he lived; and Tom could only suppose that she had offended him.  Theoretically wise Lady Blandish had always thought the baronet; she was unprepared to find him thus practically sagacious.  She fell many degrees; she wanted something to cling to; so she clung to the man who struck her low.  Love, then, was earthly; its depth could be probed by science!  A man lived who could measure it from end to end; foretell its term; handle the young cherub as were he a shot owl!  We who have flown into cousinship with the empyrean, and disported among immortal hosts, our base birth as a child of Time is made bare to us!—­our wings are cut!  Oh, then, if science is this victorious enemy of love, let us love science! was the logic of the lady’s heart; and secretly cherishing the assurance that she should confute him yet, and prove him utterly wrong, she gave him the fruits of present success, as it is a habit of women to do; involuntarily partly.  The fires took hold of her.  She felt soft emotions such as a girl feels, and they flattered her.  It was like youth coming back.  Pure women have a second youth.  The Autumn primrose flourished.

We are advised by The Pilgrim’s Scrip that—­

“The ways of women, which are Involution, and their practices, which are Opposition, are generally best hit upon by guess work, and a bold word;”—­it being impossible to track them and hunt them down in the ordinary style.

So that we may not ourselves become involved and opposed, let us each of us venture a guess and say a bold word as to how it came that the lady, who trusted love to be eternal, grovelled to him that shattered her tender faith, and loved him.

Hitherto it had been simply a sentimental dalliance, and gossips had maligned the lady.  Just when the gossips grew tired of their slander, and inclined to look upon her charitably, she set about to deserve every word they had said of her; which may instruct us, if you please, that gossips have only to persist in lying to be crowned with verity, or that one has only to endure evil mouths for a period to gain impunity.  She was always at the Abbey now.  She was much closeted with the baronet.  It seemed to be understood that she had taken Mrs. Doria’s place.  Benson in his misogynic soul perceived that she was taking Lady Feverel’s:  but any report circulated by Benson was sure to meet discredit, and drew the gossips upon himself; which made his meditations tragic.  No sooner was one woman defeated than another took the field!  The object of the System was no sooner safe than its great author was in danger!