Ethel too much--at least before
the marriage. Afterwards--he said to himself--he should treat her as he
felt inclined. But now----

"You are mistaken, Ethel," he said, in a tone of half appeased vexation
which he thought very effective. "What on earth should there be wrong
between us! Open your eyes and your ears as much as you like, my dear
child, but don't be misled by what you feel. The wind is in the
East,--remember. You feel a chill, most probably, and you put your
_malaise_ down to me."

His tone grew more affectionate as he spoke. He wanted her to believe
that he had been suffering from a mere passing cloud of ill-temper, and
that he was already ashamed of it.

"I feel the effects of the weather myself," he said. "I have been
horribly depressed all day, and I have a headache. Perhaps that is why
the brightness of your room seemed to hurt my eyes. You know that I
always like it when I am well."

He looked at her keenly, hoping that this reference to
possible-ill-health might bring the girl to his feet, as it had often
done before in the case of other women; but it did not seem to produce
the least effect. She stood silent, immobile, with her eyes still fixed
upon the floor. Silence and stillness were so unusual in one of Ethel's
vivacious temperament, that Oliver began to feel alarmed.

"Ethel," he said, advancing to her, and laying his hand upon hers, "what
is wrong? What have I done?"

She shook her head hastily, but made no other reply.

"Look at me," he said, softly.

And then she lifted her eyes. But they wore a questioning and not a
trustful look.

"Ethel, dearest, what have I done to offend you? It cannot be my silly
comment on your room that makes you look so grave? Believe me, dear, it
came only from my headache and my bad temper. I am deeply sorry to have
hurt you. Only speak--scold me if you like--but do not keep me in this
suspense."

He was skilled in the art of pleading. His pale face, usually so
expressionless, took on the look of almost passionate entreaty.

Ethel was an actress by profession--perhaps a little by nature also--but
she was too essentially simple-hearted to suspect her friends of acting
parts in private life, and indeed trusted them rather more implicitly
than most people trust their friends. It had been a grief to her to
doubt Oliver's faith for a moment, and her eyes filled with tears, while
they flashed also with indignation, as she replied,

"You must know what I m