The fortnight which followed the funeral of Captain Huxham passed quietly enough at the Farm. Mrs. Coppersley went several times to London for the purpose of interviewing her late brother's lawyer, who had his office in Cade Lane. She said very little to Bella when she returned, and on her part Bella did not ask questions. Had she been more in worldly wisdom she would have accompanied her aunt to see the for herself, so that she might learn what had been made of the property. But Bella was an unsophisticated girl, and moreover was so anxiously the continued absence of Cyril that she neglected needful things.  
Lister had disappeared from the neighbourhood, and Bella had neither seen him again nor had she heard from him. Considering what had taken place at their last interview, she was inclined to think that Cyril had passed out of her life for ever. But something told her that in spite of her unjust he still loved her, and would return. Meantime, there was nothing for it but to wait in patience, and to busy herself with her ordinary pursuits. These, however, had lost their savour for the girl, since the whole of her mind was filled with the image of the man she loved.
 
Pence did not fulfil his threat of informing the police at the end of three days. Bella waited in for the arrival of Inglis to ask her questions concerning Lister, but the officer never appeared, and as the days by she began to think that Silas would say nothing. With her aunt she went on Sunday to the Little Bethel, and heard him preach, but he did not seek a private interview with her. Even when he delivered his sermons he avoided her eye, so she deemed that he was ashamed of the wild way in which he had talked. What struck her most about the young man was his looks. He seemed to be thinner than ever, and his cheeks had a more flush, while his eyes glittered , as though he were consumed with an inward fire. But his became more and more powerful and were greatly admired by his congregation, who liked melodramatic religion. Mrs. Coppersley was especially loud in her expression of approval.
 
"What a gift," she said to Bella, when they returned home on the second Sunday through the rapidly-yellowing corn-fields. "He spares no one."
 
"And that is just what I like least about his sermons," retorted the girl. "As a he should be more merciful."
 
"You don't know anything about it," said Mrs. Coppersley .
 
"I know what Christ preached," replied Bella quietly; "and Mr. Pence has not the spirit of His preaching."
 
"In what way, pray?"
 
"Mr. Pence does not do as he would be done by. I wonder how he would like to suffer the which he measures out so freely to other people."
 
"Silas Pence is a good man, and no condemnation is possible where he is concerned," cried Mrs. Coppersley , and bounced into the house.
 
"In that case he should make allowance for those who are not good."
 
"Not at all," said the elder woman, stating her views uncompromisingly. "The good shall go to heaven, and the wicked to hell: that's ."
 
"As translated by man," finished Bella ; "but the Sermon on the Mount, Aunt Rosamund——"
 
"Bella, you are irreligious," interrupted the lady, removing her hat and placing it on the kitchen-table. "I won't have freethinkers in my house."
 
Bella raised her finely-marked eye-brows. "Your house?"
 
"Yes," almost shouted Mrs. Coppersley violently, for she felt somewhat nervous as to what she was about to say, "my house. I didn't tell you before, as I have a kind heart, but it is time we understood one another. To-night I shall explain myself, so that you may understand your position."
 
"You shall explain yourself now," said Bella, pale but .
 
"I have no time," said her aunt brusquely; "Henry is coming to dinner."
 
"I don't care if Mr. Vand is coming to dinner twenty times over," said Bella, her eyes growing hard with anger. "You have said so much that you must say all, Aunt Rosamund."
 
"Don't and bounce me, miss."
 
"I shall act exactly as I please, and it is my pleasure that you would explain what you mean."
 
"I have to lay the cloth and see to the dinner. You know that Jane never can cook to Henry's . I daresay the meat is burnt and the——" Mrs. Coppersley was about to pass into the scullery where the one small servant, over whom she tyrannised, slaved at the mid-day meal, when Bella caught her by the wrist. "How dare you, Bella?" cried the woman.
 
"Come into the drawing-room, out of Jane's hearing," whispered Bella fiercely. "I shall not wait another minute for an explanation. This house is either mine or yours."
 
"Very well," cried Mrs. Coppersley, bouncing towards the kitchen door, "If you will have it, you shall have it. I have tried to spare you, but——"
 
"Go on to the drawing-room, please," interrupted Bella imperiously, as she saw the small servant peeping round the corner; "there is no need for us to discuss private matters in public."
 
"The whole parish shall soon know what I am about to say," snapped Mrs. Coppersley, and rolled towards the drawing-room.
 
"Rolled" is the word to use in connection with Mrs. Coppersley's way of walking, for she was an extremely stout, well-fed woman, large-limbed and clumsy. Her round, face was and her eyes were as black as her hair. She did not look uncomely, but there was something coarse and in her appearance. Although she was in mourning for her late brother she could not altogether restrain her taste, and therefore wore a red feather in the hat she had left in the kitchen, and yellow gloves, which she was now impatiently removing.
 
Outside it was extremely warm and brilliant with sunshine, but in the vast drawing-room the air was pleasantly cool and agreeable. The blinds being blue, only a faint light came through them since they were down, and the cerulean atmosphere was almost religious in its feeling. Bella, ever sensitive to the unseen, in spite of her ignorance of phenomenon felt the grave influence, but her aunt, being of a coarser fibre, bounced red-faced and hot into the room, openly cross at having been summoned to what was likely to prove a disagreeable interview.
 
"Henry will be here shortly," she said , "and he doesn't like to be kept waiting for his meals."
 
"On this occasion he must wait," said Bella dryly, "it will do him good."
 
"Don't speak of Henry in that tone, miss; you know he is the most man in the world."
 
"Your speech about his for dinner sounds like it. However, we need only for a few minutes. I understood you to say that this house is yours, Aunt Rosamund."
 
Mrs. Coppersley down into one of the emerald arm-chairs and placed her pudgy hands on her stout knees. "It is," she said, glancing round the vari-coloured room with great pride. "The house is mine and the farm is mine, and Jabez's income of five hundred a year, well invested, is mine."
 
Bella grew pale. Mrs. Coppersley with such conviction that she believed her to be telling the truth. "And what is left to me?" she demanded in a low tone, for the shock took away her breath.
 
"Your aunt's love," said Mrs. Coppersley, in a matter-of-fact way. "Jabez asked me to look after you; and so long as you behave yourself I shall do so."
 
Bella passed over this petty speech. "Do you mean to say that my father has left everything to you?" she asked .
 
"Everything," Mrs. Coppersley, with an air of triumph. "Jabez wasn't so rich as folk thought him, and although he had enough invested to give him five hundred a year, he had little ready cash. When my late husband died he left me a good sum. Jabez borrowed this and added it to his own, so that he might buy Bleacres. I agreed, but only on condition that Jabez should leave me the whole property when he died. I saw that the will was made, and Mr. Timson, the Cade Lane lawyer, is now proving it. When probate is obtained, my dear," ended Mrs. Coppersley , "I shall marry Henry and will be happy for evermore."
 
"What about me?" Bella, overwhelmed.
 
"You can stay here until you marry," said Mrs. Coppersley coldly, "as I am a Christian woman, and wish to obey Jabez's request. He left you to me as a , so I will look after you; only behave yourself."
 
"Do I ever do anything else?" asked Bella bitterly.
 
"Oh, dear me, yes," returned her aunt . "You run after men."
 
Bella rose with a flushed cheek. "That is a lie."
 
Mrs. Coppersley rose, also in a violent rage and quite glad to her petty spite on one who could not . "Oh, I'm a , am I?" she said . "You call me a liar when I am only keeping you out of charity——"
 
"Stop!" Bella flung up her hand and spoke firmly. "You are not doing that, Aunt Rosamund. In one way or another you have persuaded my father into leaving you what is rightfully mine. But I shall see Mr. Timson, and read the will; you shall not have it your own way altogether."
 
Mrs. Coppersley snapped her large finger and thumb. "Go and see the will, by all means," she in a coarse voice; "you won't find any flaw in it, as I was careful that it should be properly up. I have a perfect right to the farm, as my money helped to buy it."
 
"So be it. Keep the farm, but give me the income. That, at least, you have no right to retain."
 
"I have the right of possession, which is nine points of the law, miss," said Mrs. Coppersley violently, "and the will is plain enough. Jabez did right to leave the money to me, and not to a chit of a girl like you, who would waste your father's hard-earned money on that from London."
 
"Of whom are you talking?"
 
"Don't pretend ignorance, miss, for I won't have it. I mean Mr. Lister, as he calls himself, though I daresay he is no better than he should be."
 
"You have no right to say that."
 
"I'll say what I like and do what I like. Remember I am mistress; and as you depend on me, miss, I order you to give up all idea of this Li............