unbearable. He went into the air. The November sky was drawing into wintry
night; the grey clouds darkened, clinging round the long plain,
overshadowing it, blotting out colour, leaving nothing but the severe green
of the park, and the yellow whirling of dishevelled woods.

'I must,' he said to himself, 'think no more about it. I shall go mad if I
do. Nature will find her own solution. God grant that it may be a merciful
one! I can do nothing.' And to escape from useless consideration, to
release his overwrought brain, he hastened his steps, extending his walk
through the farthest woods. As he approached the lodge gate he came upon
Mrs. Bentley. She stood, her back turned from him, leaning on the gate, her
thoughts lost in the long darkness of autumnal fields and woods.

'Julia!'

'You have left Emily. How did you leave her?'

'She is fast asleep on the sofa. She fell asleep. Then why should I remain?
The house was unbearable. She went to sleep, saying she felt very happy.'

'Really! What induced such a change in her? Did you----'

'No; I did not ask her to marry me; but I was able to tell her that I was
not going to marry you, and that seemed entirely to satisfy her.'

'Did she ask you?'

'Yes. And when I told her I was not, she said that that was all she wanted
to know--that she would soon get well now. How we human beings thrive in
each other's unhappiness!'