door；　and　its　master　remained　inside。
  Christopher　stood；　and　counted　the　minutes：　five；　ten；　fifteen；
  twenty　minutes；　and　still　the　dogcart　stood　there。
  It　was　more　than　he　could　bear。　　He　turned　savagely；　and　strode
  back　to　Gravesend；　resolving　that　all　this　torture　should　end　that
  night；　one　way　or　other。
  Phoebe　Dale　was　the　daughter　of　a　farmer　in　Essex；　and　one　of　the
  happiest　young　women　in　England　till　she　knew　Reginald　Falcon；　Esq。
  She　was　reared　on　wholesome　food；　in　wholesome　air；　and　used　to
  churn　butter；　make　bread；　cook　a　bit　now　and　then；　cut　out　and　sew
  all　her　own　dresses；　get　up　her　own　linen；　make　hay；　ride　anything
  on　four　legs；　and；　for　all　that；　was　a　great　reader；　and　taught　in
  the　Sunday　school　to　oblige　the　vicar；　wrote　a　neat　hand；　and　was　a
  good　arithmetician；　kept　all　the　house　accounts　and　farm　accounts。
  She　was　a　musician；　too；not　profound；　but　very　correct。　　She
  would　take　her　turn　at　the　harmonium　in　church；　and；　when　she　was
  there；　you　never　heard　a　wrong　note　in　the　bass；　nor　an
  inappropriate　flourish；　nor　bad　time。　　She　could　sing；　too；　but
  never　would；　except　her　part　in　a　psalm。　　Her　voice　was　a　deep
  contralto；　and　she　chose　to　be　ashamed　of　this　heavenly　organ；
  because　a　pack　of　envious　girls　had　giggled；　and　said　it　was　like　a
  man's。
  In　short；　her　natural　ability　and　the　range　and　variety　of　her
  useful　accomplishments　were　considerable；　not　that　she　was　a
  prodigy；　but　she　belonged　to　a　small　class　of　women　in　this　island
  who　are　not　too　high　to　use　their　arms；　nor　too　low　to　cultivate
  their　minds；　and；　having　a　faculty　and　a　habit　deplorably　rare
  amongst　her　sex；　viz。；　Attention；　she　had　profited　by　her
  miscellaneous　advantages。
  Her　figure　and　face　both　told　her　breed　at　once：　here　was　an　old
  English　pastoral　beauty；　not　the　round…backed；　narrow…chested
  cottager；　but　the　well…fed；　erect　rustic；　with　broad；　full　bust　and
  massive　shoulder；　and　arm　as　hard　as　a　rock　with　health　and
  constant　use；　a　hand　finely　cut；　though　neither　small　nor　very
  white；　and　just　a　little　hard　inside；　compared　with　Luxury's　soft
  palm；　a　face　honest；　fair；　and　rather　large　than　small；　not
  beautiful；　but　exceedingly　comely；　a　complexion　not　pink　and　white；
  but　that　delicately　blended　brickdusty　color；　which　tints　the　whole
  cheek　in　fine　gradation；　outlasts　other　complexions　twenty　years；
  and　beautifies　the　true　Northern；　even　in　old　age。　　Gray；　limpid；
  honest；　point…blank；　searching　eyes；　hair　true　nut…brown；　without　a
  shade　of　red　or　black；　and　a　high；　smooth　forehead；　full　of　sense。
  Across　it　ran　one　deep　wrinkle　that　did　not　belong　to　her　youth。
  That　wrinkle　was　the　brand　of　trouble；　the　line　of　agony。　　It　had
  come　of　loving　above　her；　yet　below　her；　and　of　loving　an　egotist。
  Three　years　before　our　tale　commenced；　a　gentleman's　horse　ran　away
  with　him；　and　threw　him　on　a　heap　of　stones　by　the　roadside；　not
  very　far　from　Farmer　Dale's　gate。　　The　farmer　had　him　taken　in。
  The　doctor　said　he　must　not　be　moved。　　He　was　insensible；　his　cheek
  like　delicate　wax；　his　fair　hair　like　silk　stained　with　blood。　　He
  became　Phoebe's　patient；　and；　in　due　course；　her　convalescent：　his
  pale；　handsome　face　and　fascinating　manners　gained　one　charm　more
  from　weakness；　his　vices　were　in　abeyance。
  The　womanly　nurse's　heart　yearned　over　her　child；　for　he　was　feeble
  as　a　child；　and；　when　he　got　well　enough　to　amuse　his　weary　hours
  by　making　love　to　her；　and　telling　her　a　pack　of　arrant　lies；　she
  was　a　ready　dupe。　　He　was　to　marry　her　as　soon　as　ever　his　old
  uncle　died；　and　left　him　the　means；　etc。；　etc。　　At　last　he　got　well
  enough　to　leave　her；　and　went　away；　her　open　admirer　and　secret
  lover。　　He　borrowed　twenty　pounds　of　her　the　day　he　left。
  He　used　to　write　her　charming　letters；　and　feed　the　flame；　but　one
  day　her　father　sent　her　up　to　London；　on　his　own　business；　all　of　a
  sudden；　and　she　called　on　Mr。　Falcon　at　his　real　address。　　She
  found　he　did　not　live　thereonly　received　letters。　　However；　half…
  a…crown　soon　bought　his　real　address；　and　thither　Phoebe　proceeded
  with　a　troubled　heart；　for　she　suspected　that　her　true　lover　was　in
  debt　or　trouble；　and　obliged　to　hide。　　Well；　he　must　be　got　out　of
  it；　and　hide　at　the　farm　meantime。
  So　the　loving　girl　knocked　at　the　door；　asked　for　Mr。　Falcon；　and
  was　shown　in　to　a　lady　rather　showily　dressed；　who　asked　her
  business。
  Phoebe　Dale　stared　at　her；　and　then　turned　pale　as　ashes。　　She　was
  paralyzed；　and　could　not　find　her　tongue。
  〃Why；　what　is　the　matter　now？〃　said　the　other；　sharply。
  〃Are　you　married　to　Reginald　Falcon？〃
  〃Of　course　I　am。　　Look　at　my　wedding…ring。〃
  〃Then　I　am　not　wanted　here；〃　faltered　Phoebe；　ready　to　sink　on　the
  floor。
  〃Certainly　not；　if　you　are　one　of　the　bygones；〃　said　the　woman；
  coarsely；　and　Phoebe　Dale　waited　to　hear　no　more；　but　found　her
  way；　Heaven　knows　how；　into　the　street；　and　there　leaned；　half…
  fainting；　on　a　rail；　till　a　policeman　came；　and　told　her　she　had
  been　drinking；　and　suggested　a　cool　cell　as　the　best　cure。
  〃Not　drink；　only　a　breaking　heart；〃　said　she；　in　her　low；　mellow
  voice　that　few　could　resist。
  He　got　her　a　glass　of　water；　drove　away　the　boys　that　congregated
  directly；　and　she　left　the　street。　　But　she　soon　came　back　again；
  and　waited　about　for　Reginald　Falcon。
  It　was　night　when　he　appeared。　　She　seized　him　by　the　breast；　and
  taxed　him　with　his　villany。
  What　with　her　iron　grasp；　pale　face；　and　flashing　eyes；　he　lost　his
  cool　impudence；　and　blurted　out　excuses。　　It　was　an　old　and
  unfortunate　connection；　he　would　give　the　world　to　dissolve　it；　if
  he　could　do　it　like　a　gentleman。
  Phoebe　told　him　to　please　himself：　he　must　part　with　one　or　the
  other。
  〃Don't　talk　nonsense；〃　said　this　man　of　brass；　〃I'll　un…Falcon　her
  on　the　spot。〃
  〃Very　well；〃　said　Phoebe。　　〃I　am　going　home；　and；　if　you　are　not
  there　by　to…morrow　at　noon〃She　said　no　more；　but　looked　a　great
  deal。　　Then　she　departed；　and　refused　him　her　hand　at　parting。　　〃We
  will　see　about　that　by　and　by；〃　said　she。
  At　noon　my　lord　came　down　to　the　farm；　and；　unfortunately　for
  Phoebe；　played　the　penitent　so　skilfully　for　about　a　month；　that
  she　forgave　him；　and　loved　him　all　the　more　for　having　so　nearly
  parted　with　him。
  Her　peace　was　not　to　endure　long。　　He　was　detected　in　an　intrigue
  in　the　very　village。
  The　insult　struck　so　home　that　Phoebe　herself；　to　her　parents'
  satisfaction；　ordered　him　out　of　the　house　at　once。
  But；　when　he　was　gone；　she　had　fits　of　weeping；　and　could　settle　to
  nothing　for　a　long　time。
  Months　had　elapsed；　and　she　was　getting　a　sort　of　dull　tranquillity；
  when；　one　evening；　taking　a　walk　she　had　often　with　him；　and　mourning
  her　solitude　and　wasted　affection；　he　waylaid　her；　and　clung　to　her
  knees；　and　shed　crocodile　tears　on　her　hands；　and；　after　a　long
  resistance；　violent　at　first；　but　fainter　and　fainter；　got　her　in
  his　power　again；　and　that　so　completely　that　she　met　him　several
  times　by　night；　being　ashamed　to　be　seen　with　him　in　those　parts
  by　day。
  This　ended　in　fresh　promises　of　marriage；　and　in　a　constant
  correspondence　by　letter。　　This　pest　knew　exactly　how　to　talk　to　a
  woman；　and　how　to　write　to　one。　　His　letters　fed　the　unhappy　flame；
  and；　mind　you；　he　sometimes　deceived　himself；　and　thought　he　loved
  her；　but　it　was　only　himself　he　loved。　　She　was　an　invaluable
  lover；　a　faithful；　disinterested　friend；　hers　was　a　vile　bargain；
  his；　an　excellent　one；　and　he　clung　to　it。
  And　so　they　went　on。　　She　detected　him　in　another　infidelity；　and
  reproached　him　bitterly；　but　she　had　no　longer　the　strength　to
  break　with　him。　　Nevertheless；　this　time　she　had　the　sense　to　make
  a　struggle。　　She　implored　him；　on　her　very　knees；　to　show　her　a
  little　mercy　in　return　for　all　her　love。　　〃For　pity's　sake；　leave
  me！〃　she　cried。　　〃You　are　strong；　and　I　am　weak。　　You　can　end　it
  forever；　and　pray　do。　　You　don't　want　me；　you　don't　value　me：　then；
  leave　me；　once　and　for　all；　and　end　this　hell　you　keep　me　in。〃
  No；　he　could　not；　or　he　would　not；　leave　her　alone。　　Look　at　a
  bird's　wings！how　like　an　angel's！　　Yet　so　vile　a　thing　as　a　bit
  of　birdlime　subdues　them　utterly；　and　such　was　the　fascinating
  power　of　this　mean　man　over　this　worthy　woman。　　She　was　a　reader；　a
  thinker；　a　model　of　respectability；　industry；　and　sense；　a
  businesswoman；　keen　and　practical；　could　encounter　sharp　hands　in
  sharp　trades；　could　buy　or　sell　hogs；　calves；　or　beasts　with　any
  farmer　or　butcher　in　the　country；　yet　no　match　for　a　cunning　fool。
  She　had　enshrined　an　idol　in　her　heart；　and　that　heart　adored　it；
  and　clung　to　it；　though　the　superior　head　saw　through　it；　dreaded
  it；　despised　it。
  No　wonder　three　years　of　this　had　drawn　a　tell…tale　wrinkle　across
  the　polished　brow。
  Phoebe　Dale　had　not　received　a　letter　for　some　days；　that　roused
  her　suspicion　and　stung　her　jealousy；　she　came　up　to　London　by　fast
  train；　and　down　to　Gravesend　directly。
  She　had　a　thick　veil　that　concealed　her　features；　and　with　a　little
  inquiring　and　bribing；　she　soon　found　out　that　Mr。　Falcon　was　there
  with　a　showy　dogcart。　　〃Ah！〃　thought　Phoebe；　〃he　has　won　a　little
  money　at　play　or　pigeon…shooting；　so　now　he　has　no　need　of　me。〃
  She　took　the