interruption--with the exception that Reuben, as often as
it was possible, avoided accompanying his wife when she went from home.
His own engagements multiplied, and twice before the end of July he
spent Saturday and Sunday out of town. Cecily made no close inquiries
concerning his employment of his time; on their meeting again, he
always gave her an account of what he had been doing, and she readily
accepted it. For she had now abandoned all hope of his doing serious
work; she never spoke a word which hinted regret at his mode of life.
They were on placid terms, and she had no such faith in anything better
as would justify her in endangering the recovered calm.

It became necessary at length to discuss what they should do with
themselves during the autumn. Mrs. Lessingham was going with friends to
the Pyrenees. The Delphs would take a short holiday in Sussex; Irene
could not spare much time from her work.

"I don't care to be away long myself," Reuben said, when Cecily
mentioned this. "I feel as if I should be able to get on with my
Puritanic pursuits again when we return."

Cecily looked at him, to see if he spoke in earnest. In spite of his
jesting tone, he seemed to be serious, for he was pacing the floor, his
head bent as if in meditation.

"Make your own plans," was her reply. "But we won't go into Cornwall, I
think."

"No, not this year."

They spent a month at Eastbourne. Some agreeable people whom they were
accustomed to meet at Mrs. Lessingham's had a house there, and supplied
them with society. Towards the end of the month, Reuben grew restless
and uncertain of temper; he wandered on the downs by himself, and when
at home kept silence. The child, too, was constantly ailing, and its
cry irritated him.

"The fact of the matter is," he exclaimed one evening, "I don't feel
altogether well! I ought to have had more change than this. If I go
back and settle to work, I shall break down."

"What kind of change do you wish for?" Cecily asked.

"I should have liked to take a ramble in Germany, or, Norway--some new
part. But nothing of that is possible. Clarence makes slaves of us."

Cecily reflected.

"There's no reason why he should hinder you from going."

"Oh, I can't leave you alone," he returned impatiently.

"I think you might, for a few weeks--if you feel it necessary. I don't
think Clarence ought to leave the seaside till the middle of September.
The Robinsons will be here still, you know."

H