CHAPTER 11.
_"A warm hearth, and a bright hearth, and a hearth swept clean, Where tongs don't raise a dust, and the broom isn't seen; Where the coals never fly abroad, and the soot doesn't fall, Oh, that's the fire for a man like me, in cottage or in hall._ _"A light boat, and a tight boat, and a boat that rides well, Though the waves leap around it and the winds blow snell: A full boat, and a merry boat, we'll meet any weather, With a long pull, and a strong pull, and a pull altogether."_ Sir Edwin Uniacke did not appear again at the Ledge, or not farther than the hall, where Christian, in passing, saw several of his cards lying in the card-basket.

And, two Sundays, in glancing casually down the row of strangers who so often frequented the beautiful old chapel of St.
Bede's, she thought she caught sight of that dark, handsome face, which had once seemed to her the embodiment of all manly beauty.

But she looked steadily forward, neither seeking nor shrinking from recognition.

There was no need.

As she passed out of the chapel, leaning on her husband's arm, the grave, graceful woman, composed rather than proud, Sir Edwin Uniacke must have felt that Christian Grey was as far removed from him and the like of him as if she dwelt already in the world beyond the grave.