’Whose fault was that?  But don’t you see it is the triviality of the offence which makes the penance necessary.  Had he knocked me over the head with a pickaxe, or burned the house down, I should have had a right to be angry.  But I was angry because he wanted a horse on Sunday;—­ and therefore I must do penance.’

There was nothing of love in all this.  Hetta, however, did not wish him to talk of love.  He was certainly now treating her as a friend,—­as a most intimate friend.  If he would only do that without making love to her, how happy could she be!  But his determination still held good.  ‘And now,’ said he, altering his tone altogether, ’I must speak about myself.&rsquo...