"It's of no use prolonging this discussion," she said. "An invalid's
fancies may generally be trusted, and mine point to Hartledon--if I am to
be disturbed at all. I should not so much mind going there."

A pause ensued. Lord Hartledon had taken her hand, and was mechanically
turning round her wedding-ring, his thoughts far away; it hung
sufficiently loosely now on the wasted finger. She lay back in her
chair, looking on with apathy, too indifferent to withdraw her hand.

"Why did you put it on?" she asked, abruptly.

"Why indeed?" returned his lordship, deep in his abstraction. "What did
you say, Maude?" he added, awaking in a flurry. "Put what on?"

"My wedding-ring."

"My dear! But about Hartledon--if you fancy that, and nowhere else,
I suppose we must go there."

"You also?"

"Of course."

"Ah! when your wife's chord of life is loosening what model husbands you
men become!" she uttered. "You have never gone to Hartledon with me; you
have suffered me to be there alone, through a ridiculous reminiscence;
but now that you are about to lose me you will go!"

"Why do you encourage these gloomy thoughts about yourself, Maude?" he
asked, passing over the Hartledon question. "One would think you wished
to die."

"I do not know," she replied in tones of deliberation. "Of course, no
one, at my age, can be tired of the world, and for some things I wish to
live; but for others, I shall be glad to die."

"Maude! Maude! It is wrong to say this. You are not likely to die."

"I can't tell. All I say is, I shall be glad for some things, if I do."

"What is all this?" he exclaimed, after a bewildered pause. "Is there
anything on your mind, Maude? Are you grieving after that little infant?"

"No," she answered, "not for him. I grieve for the two who remain."

Lord Hartledon looked at her. A dread, which he strove to throw from him,
struggling to his conscience.

"I think you are deceived in my state of health. And if I object to going
to the seaside, it is chiefly because I would not die in a strange place.
If I am to die, I should like to die at Hartledon."

His hair seemed to rise up in horror at the words. "Maude! have you any
disease you are concealing from me?"

"Not any. But the belief has been upon me for some time that I should not
get over this. You must have seen how I appear to be sinking."

"And with no disease upon you! I don't understand it."

"No particular physical disease."

"You are weak, d