Mrs Dale, after remaining for a moment on the bridge, went in to her
tea. What succedaneum of mutton chop or broiled ham she had for the
roast duck and green peas which were to have been provided for the
family dinner we will not particularly inquire. We may, however,
imagine that she did not devote herself to her evening repast with
any peculiar energy of appetite. She took a book with her as she
sat herself down,--some novel, probably, for Mrs Dale was not above
novels,--and read a page or two as she sipped her tea. But the book
was soon laid on one side, and the tray on which the warm plate had
become cold was neglected, and she threw herself back in her own
familiar chair, thinking of herself, and of her girls, and thinking
also what might have been her lot in life had he lived who had loved
her truly during the few years that they had been together.

It is especially the nature of a Dale to be constant in his likings
and his dislikings. Her husband's affection for her had been
unswerving,--so much so that he had quarrelled with his brother
because his brother would not express himself in brotherly terms
about his wife; but, nevertheless, the two brothers had loved each
other always. Many years had now gone by since these things had
occurred, but still the same feelings remained. When she had first
come down to Allington she had resolved to win the squire's regard,
but she had now long known that any such winning was out of the
question; indeed, there was no longer a wish for it. Mrs Dale was
not one of those soft-hearted women who sometimes thank God that
they can love any one. She could once have felt affection for her
brother-in-law,--affection, and close, careful, sisterly friendship;
but she could not do so now. He had been cold to her, and had with
perseverance rejected her advances. That was now seven years since;
and during those years Mrs Dale had been, at any rate, as cold to him