fog, until she reached the Downs--on the day
before Ernest's liabilities fell due.

"Do you regret it?" Mrs. Lismore said to her husband.

"Not for a moment!" he answered.

They decided on pursuing their journey as far as Munich.

Mrs. Lismore's taste for music was matched by Ernest's taste for
painting. In his leisure hours he cultivated the art, and delighted in
it. The picture-galleries of Munich were almost the only galleries in
Europe which he had not seen. True to the engagements to which she had
pledged herself, his wife was willing to go wherever it might please
him to take her. The one suggestion she made was, that they should hire
furnished apartments. If they lived at an hotel, friends of the husband
or the wife (visitors like themselves to the famous city) might see
their names in the book, or might meet them at the door.

They were soon established in a house large enough to provide them with
every accommodation which they required.

Ernest's days were passed in the galleries; Mrs. Lismore remaining at
home, devoted to her music, until it was time to go out with her husband
for a drive. Living together in perfect amity and concord, they were
nevertheless not living happily. Without any visible reason for the
change, Mrs. Lismore's spirits were depressed. On the one occasion when
Ernest noticed it she made an effort to be cheerful, which it distressed
him to see. He allowed her to think that she had relieved him of any
further anxiety. Whatever doubts he might feel were doubts delicately
concealed from that time forth.

But when two people are living together in a state of artificial
tranquillity, it seems to be a law of Nature that the element of
disturbance gathers unseen, and that the outburst comes inevitably with
the lapse of time.

In ten days from the date of their arrival at Munich, the crisis came.
Ernest returned later than usual from the picture-gallery, and--for the
first time in his wife's experience--shut himself up in his own room.

He appeared at the dinner-hour with a futile excuse. Mrs. Lismore waited
until the servant had withdrawn. "Now, Ernest," she said, "it's time to
tell me the truth."

Her manner, when she said those few words, took him by surprise. She was
unquestionably confused; and, instead of lookin g at him, she trifled
with the fruit on her plate. Embarrassed on his side, he could only
answer:

"I have nothing to tell."

"Were there many visitors at the gallery?