did not answer her at all; but still he came daily, almost always at the same hour, just as the day was waning, so that he could sit for a quarter of an hour in the dusk, and then ride home to Guestwick in the dark.  At this time Bell had been admitted into her sister’s room, and she would always meet Dr Crofts at Lily’s bedside; but she never sat with him alone, since the day on which he had offered her his love with half-articulated words, and she had declined it with words also half-articulated.  She had seen him alone since that, on the stairs, or standing in the hall, but she had not remained with him, talking to him after her old fashion, and no further word of his love had been spoken in speech either half or wholly articulate.

Nor had Bell spoken of what had passed to any one else.  Lily would probably have told both her mother and sister instantly; but then no such scene as that which had taken place with Bell would have been possible with Lily.  In whatever way the matter might have gone with her, there would certainly have been some clear tale to tell when the interview was over.  She would have known whether or no she loved the man, or could love him, and would have given him some true and intelligible answer.  Bell had not done so, but had given him an answer which, if true, was not intelligible, and if intelligible was not true.  And yet, when she had gone away to think over what had passed, she had been happy and satisfied, and almost triumphant.  She had never yet asked herself whether she expected anything further from Dr Crofts, nor what that something further might be,—­and yet she was happy!

Lily had now become pert and saucy in her bed, taking upon herself the little airs which are allowed to a convalescent invalid as compensation for previous suffering and restraint.  She pretended to much anxiety on the subject of her dinner, and declared that she would go out on such or such a day, let Dr Crofts be as imperious as he might.  “He’s an old savage, after all,” she said to her sister, one evening after he was gone, “and just as bad as the rest of them.”

“I do not know who the rest of them are,” said Bell, “but at any rate he’s not very old.”

“You know what I mean.  He’s just as grumpy as Dr Gruffen, and thinks everybody is to do what he tells them.  Of course, you take his part.”

“And of course you ought, seeing how good he has been.”

“And of course I should, to anybody but you.  I do like to abuse him to you.”

“Lily, Lily!”

“So I do.  It’s so hard to knock any fire out of you, that when one does find the place where the flint lies, one can’t help hammering at it.  What did he mean by saying that I shouldn’t get up on Sunday?  Of course I shall get up if I like it.”

“Not if mamma asks you not?”

“Oh, but she won’t, unless he interferes and dictates to her.  Oh, Bell, what a tyrant he would be if he were married!”