spite with it that she was equally ready to kiss or to stab him.
So she took every opportunity to instil into her mistress, whose confidence she had won at last, that Griffith was false to her.
"That is the way with these men that are so ready to suspect others. Take my word for it, Dame, he has carried your money to his leman. 'Tis still the honest woman that must bleed for some nasty trollop or other."
She enforced this theory by examples drawn from her own observations in families, and gave the very names; and drove Mrs. Gaunt almost mad with fear, anger, jealousy, and cruel suspense. She could not sleep, she could not eat; she was in a constant fever.
Yet before the world she battled it out bravely, and indeed none but Ryder knew the anguish of her spirit, and her passionate wrath.
At last there came a most eventful day.
Mrs. Gaunt had summoned all her pride and fortitude, and invited certain ladies and gentlemen to dine and sup.
She was one of the true Spartan breed, and played the hostess as well as if her heart had been at ease. It was an age in which the host struggled fiercely to entertain the guests; and Mrs. Gaunt was taxing all her powers of pleasing in the dining-room, when an unexpected guest strolled into the kitchen: the pedler, Thomas Leicester.
Jane welcomed him cordially, and he was soon seated at a table eating his share of the feast.
Presently Mrs. Ryder came down, dressed in her best, and looking handsomer than ever.
At sight of her, Tom Leicester's affection revived; and he soon took occasion to whisper an inquiry whether she was still single.
"Ay," said she, "and like to be."
"Waiting for the master still? Mayhap I could cure you of that complaint. But least said is soonest mended."
This mysterious hint showed Ryder he had a secret burning his bosom. The sly hussy said nothing just then, but plied him with ale and flattery; and, when he whispered a request for a private meeting out of doors, she cast her eyes down, and assented.
And in that meeting she carried herself so adroitly, that he renewed his offer of marriage, and told her not to waste her fancy on a man who cared neither for her nor any other she in Cumberland.
"Prove that to me," said Ryder, cunningly, "and may be I'll take you at your word."
The bribe was not to be resisted. Tom revealed to her, under a solemn promise of secrecy, that the Squire had got a wife and child in Lancashire; and had a farm and an inn, which latter he kept under the name of—Thomas Leicester.
In short, he told her, in his way, all the particulars I have told in mine.
Which told it the best will never be known in this world.
She led him on with a voice of very velvet. He did not see how her cheek paled and her eyes flashed jealous fury.
When she had sucked him dry, she suddenly turned on him, with a cold voice, and said, "I can't stay any longer with you just now. She will want me."
"You will meet me here again, lass?" said Tom, ruefully.
"Yes, for a minute, after supper."
She then left him, and went to Mrs. Gaunt's room, and sat crouching before the fire, all hate and bitterness.
What? he had left the wife he loved, and yet had not turned to her!
She sat there, waiting for Mrs. Gaunt, and nursing her vindictive fury, two mortal hours.
At last, just before supper, Mrs. Gaunt came up to her room, to cool her fevered hands and brow, and found this creature crouched by her fire, all in a heap, with pale cheek, and black eyes that glittered like basilisk's.
"What is the matter, child?" said Mrs. Gaunt. "Good heavens! what hath happened?"
