“Have you done, Hermy?” said her husband.

“No; I’ve not done.”

“Then go on again,” said he.

But in truth she had done, and could only repeat her last accusation.  “You’re very, very cruel.”

“You said that before.”

“And I’ll say it again.  I’ll tell everybody; so I will.  I’ll tell your uncle at the rectory, and he shall speak to you.”

“Look here, Hermy, I can bear a deal of nonsense from you because some women are given to talk nonsense; but if I find you telling tales about me out of this house, and especially to my uncle, or indeed, to anybody I’ll let you know what it is to be cruel.”

“You can’t be worse than you are.”

“Don’t try me; that’s all.  And as I suppose you have now said all that you’ve got to say, if you please we will regard that subject as finished.”  The poor woman had said all that she could say, and had no further means of carrying on the war.  In her thoughts she could do so; in her thoughts she could wander forth out of the gloomy house in the night, and perish in the damp and cold, leaving a paper behind her to tell the world that her husband’s cruelty had brought her to that pass.  Or she would go to Julia and leave him forever.  Julia, she thought, would still receive her.  But as to one thing she had certainly made up her mind; she would go with her complaint to Mrs. Clavering at the rectory, let her lord and master show his anger in whatever form he might please.

The next day Sir Hugh himself made her a proposition which somewhat softened the aspect of affairs.  This he did in his usual voice, with something of a smile on his face, and speaking as though he were altogether oblivious of the scenes of yesterday.  “I was thinking, Hermy,” he said, “that you might have Julia down here while I am away.”

“Have Julia here?”

“Yes; why not?  She’ll come, I’m sure, when she knows that my back is turned.”

“I’ve never thought about asking her—­at least not lately.”

“No; of course.  But you might as well do so now.  It seems that she never goes to Ongar Park, and, as far as I can learn, never will.  I’m going to see her myself.”

“You going to see her?”

“Yes; Lord Ongar’s people want to know whether she can be induced to give up the place; that is, to sell her interest in it.  I have promised to see her.  Do you write her a letter first, and tell her that I want to see her; and ask her also to come here as soon as she can leave London.”

“But wouldn’t the lawyers:  do it better than you?”

“Well; one would think so; but I am commissioned to make her a kind of apology from the whole Courton family.  They fancy they’ve been hard upon her; and, by George, I believe they have.  I may be able to say a word for myself too.  If she isn’t a fool she’ll put her anger in her pocket, and come down to you.”

Lady Clavering liked the idea of having her sister with her, but she was not quite meek enough to receive the permission now given her as full compensation for the injury done.  She said that she would do as he had bidden her, and then went back to her own grievances.  “I don’t suppose Julia, even if she would come for a little time, would find it very pleasant to live in such a place as this, all alone.”