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door； and its master remained inside。
Christopher stood； and counted the minutes： five； ten； fifteen；
twenty minutes； and still the dogcart stood there。
It was more than he could bear。 He turned savagely； and strode
back to Gravesend； resolving that all this torture should end that
night； one way or other。
Phoebe Dale was the daughter of a farmer in Essex； and one of the
happiest young women in England till she knew Reginald Falcon； Esq。
She was reared on wholesome food； in wholesome air； and used to
churn butter； make bread； cook a bit now and then； cut out and sew
all her own dresses； get up her own linen； make hay； ride anything
on four legs； and； for all that； was a great reader； and taught in
the Sunday school to oblige the vicar； wrote a neat hand； and was a
good arithmetician； kept all the house accounts and farm accounts。
She was a musician； too；not profound； but very correct。 She
would take her turn at the harmonium in church； and； when she was
there； you never heard a wrong note in the bass； nor an
inappropriate flourish； nor bad time。 She could sing； too； but
never would； except her part in a psalm。 Her voice was a deep
contralto； and she chose to be ashamed of this heavenly organ；
because a pack of envious girls had giggled； and said it was like a
man's。
In short； her natural ability and the range and variety of her
useful accomplishments were considerable； not that she was a
prodigy； but she belonged to a small class of women in this island
who are not too high to use their arms； nor too low to cultivate
their minds； and； having a faculty and a habit deplorably rare
amongst her sex； viz。； Attention； she had profited by her
miscellaneous advantages。
Her figure and face both told her breed at once： here was an old
English pastoral beauty； not the round…backed； narrow…chested
cottager； but the well…fed； erect rustic； with broad； full bust and
massive shoulder； and arm as hard as a rock with health and
constant use； a hand finely cut； though neither small nor very
white； and just a little hard inside； compared with Luxury's soft
palm； a face honest； fair； and rather large than small； not
beautiful； but exceedingly comely； a complexion not pink and white；
but that delicately blended brickdusty color； which tints the whole
cheek in fine gradation； outlasts other complexions twenty years；
and beautifies the true Northern； even in old age。 Gray； limpid；
honest； point…blank； searching eyes； hair true nut…brown； without a
shade of red or black； and a high； smooth forehead； full of sense。
Across it ran one deep wrinkle that did not belong to her youth。
That wrinkle was the brand of trouble； the line of agony。 It had
come of loving above her； yet below her； and of loving an egotist。
Three years before our tale commenced； a gentleman's horse ran away
with him； and threw him on a heap of stones by the roadside； not
very far from Farmer Dale's gate。 The farmer had him taken in。
The doctor said he must not be moved。 He was insensible； his cheek
like delicate wax； his fair hair like silk stained with blood。 He
became Phoebe's patient； and； in due course； her convalescent： his
pale； handsome face and fascinating manners gained one charm more
from weakness； his vices were in abeyance。
The womanly nurse's heart yearned over her child； for he was feeble
as a child； and； when he got well enough to amuse his weary hours
by making love to her； and telling her a pack of arrant lies； she
was a ready dupe。 He was to marry her as soon as ever his old
uncle died； and left him the means； etc。； etc。 At last he got well
enough to leave her； and went away； her open admirer and secret
lover。 He borrowed twenty pounds of her the day he left。
He used to write her charming letters； and feed the flame； but one
day her father sent her up to London； on his own business； all of a
sudden； and she called on Mr。 Falcon at his real address。 She
found he did not live thereonly received letters。 However； half…
a…crown soon bought his real address； and thither Phoebe proceeded
with a troubled heart； for she suspected that her true lover was in
debt or trouble； and obliged to hide。 Well； he must be got out of
it； and hide at the farm meantime。
So the loving girl knocked at the door； asked for Mr。 Falcon； and
was shown in to a lady rather showily dressed； who asked her
business。
Phoebe Dale stared at her； and then turned pale as ashes。 She was
paralyzed； and could not find her tongue。
〃Why； what is the matter now？〃 said the other； sharply。
〃Are you married to Reginald Falcon？〃
〃Of course I am。 Look at my wedding…ring。〃
〃Then I am not wanted here；〃 faltered Phoebe； ready to sink on the
floor。
〃Certainly not； if you are one of the bygones；〃 said the woman；
coarsely； and Phoebe Dale waited to hear no more； but found her
way； Heaven knows how； into the street； and there leaned； half…
fainting； on a rail； till a policeman came； and told her she had
been drinking； and suggested a cool cell as the best cure。
〃Not drink； only a breaking heart；〃 said she； in her low； mellow
voice that few could resist。
He got her a glass of water； drove away the boys that congregated
directly； and she left the street。 But she soon came back again；
and waited about for Reginald Falcon。
It was night when he appeared。 She seized him by the breast； and
taxed him with his villany。
What with her iron grasp； pale face； and flashing eyes； he lost his
cool impudence； and blurted out excuses。 It was an old and
unfortunate connection； he would give the world to dissolve it； if
he could do it like a gentleman。
Phoebe told him to please himself： he must part with one or the
other。
〃Don't talk nonsense；〃 said this man of brass； 〃I'll un…Falcon her
on the spot。〃
〃Very well；〃 said Phoebe。 〃I am going home； and； if you are not
there by to…morrow at noon〃She said no more； but looked a great
deal。 Then she departed； and refused him her hand at parting。 〃We
will see about that by and by；〃 said she。
At noon my lord came down to the farm； and； unfortunately for
Phoebe； played the penitent so skilfully for about a month； that
she forgave him； and loved him all the more for having so nearly
parted with him。
Her peace was not to endure long。 He was detected in an intrigue
in the very village。
The insult struck so home that Phoebe herself； to her parents'
satisfaction； ordered him out of the house at once。
But； when he was gone； she had fits of weeping； and could settle to
nothing for a long time。
Months had elapsed； and she was getting a sort of dull tranquillity；
when； one evening； taking a walk she had often with him； and mourning
her solitude and wasted affection； he waylaid her； and clung to her
knees； and shed crocodile tears on her hands； and； after a long
resistance； violent at first； but fainter and fainter； got her in
his power again； and that so completely that she met him several
times by night； being ashamed to be seen with him in those parts
by day。
This ended in fresh promises of marriage； and in a constant
correspondence by letter。 This pest knew exactly how to talk to a
woman； and how to write to one。 His letters fed the unhappy flame；
and； mind you； he sometimes deceived himself； and thought he loved
her； but it was only himself he loved。 She was an invaluable
lover； a faithful； disinterested friend； hers was a vile bargain；
his； an excellent one； and he clung to it。
And so they went on。 She detected him in another infidelity； and
reproached him bitterly； but she had no longer the strength to
break with him。 Nevertheless； this time she had the sense to make
a struggle。 She implored him； on her very knees； to show her a
little mercy in return for all her love。 〃For pity's sake； leave
me！〃 she cried。 〃You are strong； and I am weak。 You can end it
forever； and pray do。 You don't want me； you don't value me： then；
leave me； once and for all； and end this hell you keep me in。〃
No； he could not； or he would not； leave her alone。 Look at a
bird's wings！how like an angel's！ Yet so vile a thing as a bit
of birdlime subdues them utterly； and such was the fascinating
power of this mean man over this worthy woman。 She was a reader； a
thinker； a model of respectability； industry； and sense； a
businesswoman； keen and practical； could encounter sharp hands in
sharp trades； could buy or sell hogs； calves； or beasts with any
farmer or butcher in the country； yet no match for a cunning fool。
She had enshrined an idol in her heart； and that heart adored it；
and clung to it； though the superior head saw through it； dreaded
it； despised it。
No wonder three years of this had drawn a tell…tale wrinkle across
the polished brow。
Phoebe Dale had not received a letter for some days； that roused
her suspicion and stung her jealousy； she came up to London by fast
train； and down to Gravesend directly。
She had a thick veil that concealed her features； and with a little
inquiring and bribing； she soon found out that Mr。 Falcon was there
with a showy dogcart。 〃Ah！〃 thought Phoebe； 〃he has won a little
money at play or pigeon…shooting； so now he has no need of me。〃
She took the