from day to day he seemed to lean more upon his son-in-law, whose
visits to him were continued, and always well taken. The constant
subject of discourse between them was Everett Wharton, who had not
yet seen his father since the misfortune of their quarrel. Everett
had declared to Lopez a dozen times that he would go to his father if
his father wished it, and Lopez as often reported to the father that
Everett would not go to him unless the father expressed such a wish.
And so they had been kept apart. Lopez did not suppose that the old
man would disinherit his son altogether,--did not, perhaps, wish it.
But he thought that the condition of the old man's mind would affect
the partition of his property, and that the old man would surely make
some new will in the present state of his affairs. The old man always
asked after his daughter, begging that she would come to him, and at
last it was necessary that an evening should be fixed. "We shall be
delighted to come to-day or to-morrow," Lopez said.

"We had better say to-morrow. There would be nothing to eat to-day.
The house isn't now what it used to be." It was therefore expedient
that Lopez should drop his anger when he got home, and prepare his
wife to dine in Manchester Square in a proper frame of mind.

Her misery had been extreme;--very much more bitter than he had
imagined. It was not only that his displeasure made her life for
the time wearisome, and robbed the only society she had of all its
charms. It was not only that her heart was wounded by his anger.
Those evils might have been short-lived. But she had seen,--she could
not fail to see,--that his conduct was unworthy of her and of her
deep love. Though she struggled hard against the feeling, she could
not but despise the meanness of his jealousy. She knew thoroughly
well that there had been no grain of offence in that letter from
Arthur Fletcher,--and she knew that no man, no true man, would have
taken offence at it. She tried to quench her judgment, and to silence
the verdict which her intellect gave against him, but her intellect
was too strong even for her heart. She was beginning to learn that
the god of her idolatry was but a little human creature, and that she
should not have worshipped at so poor a shrine. But nevertheless the
love should be continued, and, if possible, the worship, though the
idol had been already found to have feet of clay. He was her husband,
and she would be true to him. As morning