of the world. She hardly dared to speak to him, so great was the
bitterness of his words when she was goaded to reply. At last, late in
the evening, feeling that it would be her duty to send to Mr Walker
early on the following morning, she laid her hand gently on his shoulder
and asked him for his promise. 'I may tell Mr Walker that you will be
there on Thursday?'

'No,' he said, shouting at her. 'No. I will have no such message
sent.' She started back, trembling. Not that she was accustomed to
tremble at his ways, or to show that she feared him in his paroxysms,
but that his voice had been louder than she had before known it. 'I will
hold no intercourse with them at Silverbridge in this matter. Do you
hear me, Mary?'

'I hear you, Josiah; but I must keep my word to Mr Walker. I promised
that I would send to him.'

'Tell him, then, that I will not stir a foot out of this house on
Thursday of my own accord. On Thursday I shall be here; and here I will
remain all day--unless they take me by force.'

'But Josiah--'

'Will you obey me, or shall I walk into Silverbridge myself and tell the
man that I will not come to him.' Then he arose from his chair and
stretched forth his hand to his hat as though he were going forth
immediately, on his way to Silverbridge. The night was now pitch dark,
and the rain was falling, and abroad he would encounter all the severity
of the pitiless winter. Still it might have been better that he should
have gone. The exercise and the fresh air, even the wet and the mud,