She was not an analytical woman; she had never thought about her own thoughts; she was as superficial as human nature can well be. That is to say, she was little more than an animal with the gift of speech, added to one or two small items of knowledge which divide men from beasts. But she _knew_ that this was not the end. She never doubted for a moment that it was merely a beginning, that Seymour Michael was coming back into her life.
Like a child she tossed and tumbled in her bed, muttering half-consciously, "Oh, what shall I do? What shall I do?"
His hand will be against every man, and every man's hand against him.
For two days Mrs. Glynde had been going about the world with a bright red patch on either cheek; and it would seem that on the third day, namely, the Sunday, things came to a crisis in her disturbed mind. At morning service her fervour was something astonishing--the quaver in her voice was more noticeable in the hymns than ever, and the space devoted to silent prayer after the blessing was so abnormally long that Stark, the sexton, had to rattle the keys twice, with all due respect and for the sake of his Sunday dinner, before she rose from her knees; whereas once usually sufficed.
It was the devout practice that all the Rectory servants should go to evening service, while Mrs. Glynde, or Dora, or both, remained at home to take care of the house. On this particular evening Mrs. Glynde proposed that Dora should stay with her, and what her mother proposed Dora usually acceded to.
"Dear," said the elder lady, with a nervous little jerk of the head which was habitual or physical, "I have heard about Arthur."
They were sitting in the drawing-room, with windows open to the ground, and the fading light was insufficient to read by, although both had books.
"Yes, mother," answered the girl in rather a tired voice, quite forgetting to be cheerful. "I should like to know exactly what you heard."
"Well, Anna told me," and there was a whole world of distrust in the little phrase, "that Arthur had asked you to be his wife, and that you had refused without giving a reason."
"I gave him a reason," replied Dora; "the best one. I said that I did not love him."
There was a little pause. The two women looked out on to the quiet lawn. They seemed singularly anxious to avoid looking at each other.