tripped and stumbled, causing a rather alarming
concussion with the trayful of crockery in his hands, but no positive
damage, save the fall and breaking of a sauce tureen; but, to my
unspeakable shame and dismay, Arthur turned furiously around upon him,
and swore at him with savage coarseness. The poor man turned pale, and
visibly trembled as he stooped to pick up the fragments.

'He couldn't help it, Arthur,' said I; 'the carpet caught his foot, and
there's no great harm done. Never mind the pieces now, Benson; you can
clear them away afterwards.'

Glad to be released, Benson expeditiously set out the dessert and
withdrew.

'What could you mean, Helen, by taking the servant's part against me,'
said Arthur, as soon as the door was closed, 'when you knew I was
distracted?'

'I did not know you were distracted, Arthur: and the poor man was quite
frightened and hurt at your sudden explosion.'

'Poor man, indeed! and do you think I could stop to consider the feelings
of an insensate brute like that, when my own nerves were racked and torn
to pieces by his confounded blunders?'

'I never heard you complain of your nerves before.'

'And why shouldn't I have nerves as well as you?'

'Oh, I don't dispute your claim to their possession, but I never complain
of mine.'

'No, how should you, when you never do anything to try them?'

'Then why do you try yours, Arthur?'

'Do you think I have nothing to do but to stay at home and take care of
myself like a woman?'

'Is it impossible, then, to take care of yourself like a man when you go
abroad? You told me that you could, and would too; and you promised--'

'Come, come, Helen, don't begin with that nonsense now; I can't bear it.'

'Can't bear what?--to be reminded of the promises you have broken?'

'Helen, you are cruel. If you knew how my heart throbbed, and how every
nerve thrilled through me while you spoke, you would spare me. You can
pity a dolt of a servant for breaking a dish; but you have no compassion
for me when my head is split in two and all on fire with this consuming
fever.'

He leant his head on his hand, and sighed. I went to him and put my hand
on his forehead. It was burning indeed.

'Then come with me into the drawing-room, Arthur; and don't take any more
wine: you have taken several glasses since dinner, and eaten next to
nothing all the day. How can that make you better?'

With some coaxing and persuasion, I got him to leave the tab