THE WORLD BEFORE THEM.

A Novel.

BY

MRS. MOODIE,

AUTHOR OF "ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH."

IN THREE VOLUMES.

VOL. III.

LONDON:
RICHARD BENTLEY, NEW BURLINGTON STREET.
1868.

LONDON:

Printed by A. Schulze, 13, Poland Street

CONTENTS

THE WORLD BEFORE THEM.

CHAPTER I.

MRS. GILBERT RUSHMERE.

The dinner was so well cooked, and so nicely served, that in spite of the unusual hour, Mrs. Rowly and her daughter made a very hearty meal.

Mrs. Rushmere's easy chair had been drawn to the head of the table, and Dorothy sat beside her and carved, Gilbert being unable at present to cut his own food. Dorothy longed to do it for him, when she observed how unwillingly his wife performed this necessary service.

"I am a great trouble to you, Sophy," he said; "but directly my arm is healed, I shall soon learn to help myself, as I have seen others do, who had met with the same misfortune."

"It is a good thing to have a wife to help you," suggested Mrs. Rowly.

"Yes, but it makes a fellow feel so dependent. He has to submit through sheer necessity to petticoat government."

"A' don't think that even one arm would make me do that," said Rushmere, "tho' I believe a' had the best wife in Christendom."

Mrs. Rushmere laughed good-naturedly.

"Oh, Lawrence, men be often under their wives' government, an' as ignorant of the fact as babies."

"You speak, I suppose, from experience," said Mrs. Gilbert, in her gentle low voice. "I should have thought the old gentleman a very difficult person for any wife to manage. I find Gilbert a hard case, in spite of his one arm."

"There's only one way to rule me, and that's by kindness," returned Gilbert.

Without meaning it, perhaps, his voice assumed a serious tone, almost amounting to sadness. He looked up, and his eyes and Dorothy's met; forcing an appearance of gaiety, he said, "What have you to say on the subject, Dorothy?"

"I never give an opinion on subjects I know nothing about. I am the only person in the room who cannot speak from experience. I should think your plan, however, must be the best."

"It is a pity you have not an opportunity of trying it, Miss, What's your name," said Mrs. Gilbert, "in which case you might perhaps find out that kindness can be thrown away."

"I expected to find Dorothy married when I came home," said Gilbert. "I thought it impossible that the young fellows in the neighbourhood could suffer her to remain single."

"She waited for you, Gilly, till she found it o' no use," cried Rushmere passing the bottle to his son.

"Oh that I had waited for her," was the thought that flashed through Gilbert's mind, charged with a deep regret.

"Father will have his joke," said Dorothy, colouring like a rose, "without thinking that it may be at the expense of another."

Mrs. Gilbert left off eating, and listened keenly to what was passing.

"Believe me, Gilbert, that there is no one present who congratulates you more sincerely on your marriage than I do."

"My dear child, will you help me up stairs?" said Mrs. Rushmere, apprehensive of mischief from her husband's blunt indiscretion and want of delicacy.

Gilbert rose, and with his left arm supported her to the foot of the stairs. "Oh, Dorothy," he said, "no wonder that you despise me. God only knows how I despise myself."

"It is too late to repent now, Gilbert. You must try like me to forget. You owe it to your wife, as much as to me."

She passed her arm round Mrs. Rushmere's waist, and left Gilbert at the foot of the stairs. He put the cuff of his empty sleeve to his eyes. Was it to wipe away a tear?

His wife looked daggers at him, when he returned to the table. His father proposed a walk round the farm after dinner, an invitation that