_ knew it; whether the awful skeleton, that never quitted
him night or day, could hold such place with another. He was Earl of
Hartledon; wealthy, young, handsome; he had no bad habits to hamper him;
and yet he would willingly have changed lots at hazard with any one of
those passers-by, could his breast, by so doing, have been eased of its
burden.

"What are you looking at, Val?"

His wife had come up and stolen her arm within his, as she asked the
question, looking out too.

"Not at anything in particular," he replied, making a prisoner of her
hand. "The night's hot, Maude."

"Oh, I am getting tired of London!" she exclaimed. "It is always hot now;
and I believe I ought to be away from it."

"Yes."

"That letter I had this morning was from Ireland, from mamma. I told her,
when I wrote last, how I felt; and you never read such a lecture as she
gave me in return. She asked me whether I was mad, that I should be going
galvanizing about when I ought rather to be resting three parts of my
time."

"Galvanizing?" said Lord Hartledon.

"So she wrote: she never waits to choose her words--you know mamma!
I suppose she meant to imply that I was always on the move."

"Do you feel ill, Maude?"

"Not exactly ill; but--I think I ought to be careful. Percival," she
breathed, "mamma asked me whether I was trying to destroy the hope of an
heir to Hartledon."

An ice-bolt shot through him at the reminder. Better an heir should never
be born, if it must call him father!

"I fainted to-day, Val," she continued to whisper.

He passed his arm round his wife's waist, and drew her closer to him.
Not upon her ought he to visit his sin: she might have enough to bear,
without coldness from him; rather should he be doubly tender.

"You did not tell me about it, love. Why have you gone out this evening?"
he asked reproachfully.

"It has not harmed me. Indeed I will take care, for your sake. I should
never forgive myself."

"I have thought since we married, Maude, that you did not much care for
me."

Maude made no immediate answer. She was looking out straight before her,
her head on his shoulder, and Lord Hartledon saw that tears were
glistening in her eyes.

"Yes, I do," she said at length; and as she spoke she felt very conscious
that she _was_ caring for him. His gentle kindness, his many attractions
were beginning to tell upon her heart; and a vision of the possible
future, when she should love him, crossed her then an