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 pedlar, 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."