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again for her lateness and did so speedily, before she had time to lose courage.
    Thomas listened without comment and then said:
    â€œVery well; pray do not let it occur again. Frances! I trust that you will remember your position in this household as my wife . You are no longer a child, among your sisters, but a woman grown, and must comport yourself as such, with suitable dignity and reserve.”
    â€œYes, sir.” She could not bear to look at his face; she kept her eyes, instead, upon the three-fingered hand, holding his cocked hat.
    He said, “I do not wish to discover you laughing and talking with menservants—with any such persons. It is wholly unbecoming to your station. You are married to me now; please keep this in mind at all times.”
    Fanny did not feel she was at all likely to forget, but his look was so forbidding that she merely repeated her apology.
    â€œI am going out, now, on impress business, and shall very likely be absent until the late afternoon,” Thomas went on. “I have directed Patience to bring her slate and copybooks down to this room where you may give her her lessons until noon. Then I have instructed Kate to wait on you with the housekeeping books and a list of the stores, so that you may be fully conversant with the running of the household. And you had best discuss with her the disposition of the furniture and make certain that the pantry and all the closets have been set in order. This afternoon you may go out into the garden, but pray do not go unescorted—either take one of the maids or, better, have Bet and Martha accompany you.”
    Rather faintly, Fanny inquired, “May I not go into the town?”
    Bending a frowning glance upon her—while he gave her his instructions, Thomas had kept his gaze averted, as if the sight of her was displeasing to him—he said:
    â€œWhy should you wish to do that ? You can have no need to buy any article yet, surely? Your father assured me that he had expended on you sufficient funds to equip you with all the usual bride’s gear?”
    â€œOh yes, sir, he did, of course—” Fanny’s voice trembled at the thought of her father, parting with guineas he could ill spare to buy her linen. “I—I merely had a wish to inspect the town, to see the streets—and your daughters might enjoy it also.”
    â€œI prefer that you do not,” Thomas said shortly. “If there is some particular necessity, such as thread, or lamp oil, you may send one of the servants to buy it.”
    Now the sound of his horse’s hoofs could be heard outside the front door, and he departed without more ado. Fanny could feel only relief at his going, although these various admonitions and prohibitions had left her decidedly limp, low-spirited, and despondent; by contrast her life at home, free to walk in the fields or the village as she pleased, alone or with her sisters, appeared the height of liberty and independence; here, she was virtually a prisoner.
    But perhaps he will change his views after a week or two, Fanny thought hopefully. For one thing, I cannot imagine that Bet and Martha will submit for long to being confined to the house and garden—remembering their conversation on the previous evening. She suspected that Thomas had little notion of his daughters’ real natures.
    However, the two elder were now occupied, diligently and with due propriety, Martha stitching at a large canvas fire screen, while Bet practiced the pianoforte, so Fanny applied herself to the instruction of little Patty. This proved a decidedly unrewarding task; firstly, Patty was a dull and backward child, having poor natural abilities and a somewhat spiteful and disobliging nature; secondly, she seemed filled by a sullen resolve to learn as little as possible, countering any instruction Fanny gave her with an objection which varied only slightly in its form:
    â€œMiss Fox never taught me so!” “Miss