g his daily ride or walk, but
spending the rest of his hours in his library. To the world, and to
that lesser one, their household, they were a model couple, dining
together regularly, and appearing a little in society, but not much, on
account of Lady Gernon's health--so it was said; but Sir Murray, at
heart, looked upon wife and child with a hatred that was almost a
loathing, and so Lady Gernon's return to convalescence was very slow.

Once--nay, many times--she had clung to her husband beseechingly, her
eyes telling her prayer; but she had soon found that such efforts merely
irritated him.

"Where is the cross?" he had asked her peevishly, and, upon her weak
protest reaching his ears, he had laughed scornfully.

"Lady Gernon," he once said, "had you spoken to me on his behalf--had
you told me of his strait--I would have placed thousands in your hands
to relieve him. But you have made my life a curse to me."

"But have you no faith?--my words--my solemn asseverations of
innocence," sobbed Lady Gernon.

"None!" he said, furiously--"none! I would not believe you were you
dying. You have made me a madman, I believe; you have disgraced me in
the eyes of the world; and I would have a divorce, but that I will not
have the scandal renewed, and in the lips of every idler in the kingdom,
the `Great Lincolnshire Scandal' for a newspaper heading, and endless
leading articles upon the gross immorality of the upper classes. Once
for all, let this rest. You have gained your title, and you have
_aided_--There, I will say no more; I will not descend to coarseness. I
was once a man of refinement, and, I believe, generous. Let the past be
dead--dead between us for ever. It should have been dead now, but that
you try to nurse it into life with your tears. Now leave me. You know
my commands; I will have this subject brought up no more!"

"Murray Gernon," said Marion, sadly, "you are in a dream. Some day you
will waken."

He did not reply, and she left the room.

As Lady Gernon's strength returned, she had, by slow degrees, taken to
her old pursuit; and often she might be seen, basket in hand, laden with
specimens, returning from some field or woodland ramble. But, so far,
once, and once only, while alone, it had fallen to her lot to encounter
Philip Norton, when he turned slowly out of the path, raised his hat,
and was gone.

She stood as if unable to proceed for a few minutes, and then walked
slowly on; but befor