you say nice things, as if you meant them. Don't be mysterious,
sir. What harm do you know of Mr Lightwood?'

'None, my love.'

'What has he ever done to you, John?'

'He has never done anything to me, my dear. I know no more against
him than I know against Mr Wrayburn; he has never done anything to me;
neither has Mr Wrayburn. And yet I have exactly the same objection to
both of them.'

'Oh, John!' retorted Bella, as if she were giving him up for a bad job,
as she used to give up herself. 'You are nothing better than a sphinx!
And a married sphinx isn't a--isn't a nice confidential husband,' said
Bella, in a tone of injury.

'Bella, my life,' said John Rokesmith, touching her cheek, with a grave
smile, as she cast down her eyes and pouted again; 'look at me. I want
to speak to you.'

'In earnest, Blue Beard of the secret chamber?' asked Bella, clearing
her pretty face.

'In earnest. And I confess to the secret chamber. Don't you remember
that you asked me not to declare what I thought of your higher qualities
until you had been tried?'

'Yes, John dear. And I fully meant it, and I fully mean it.'

'The time will come, my darling--I am no prophet, but I say so,--when
you WILL be tried. The time will come, I think, when you will undergo
a trial through which you will never pass quite triumphantly for me,
unless you can put perfect faith in me.'

'Then you may be sure of me, John dear, for I can put perfect faith in
you, and I do, and I always, always will. Don't judge me by a little
thing like this, John. In little things, I am a little thing myself--I
always was. But in great things, I hope not; I don't mean to boast, John
dear, but I hope not!'

He was even better convinced of the truth of what she said than she was,
as he felt her loving arms about him. If the Golden Dustman's riches had
been his to stake, he would have staked them to the last farthing on the
fidelity through good and evil of her affectionate and trusting heart.

'Now, I'll go down to, and go away with, Mr Lightwood,' said Bella,
springing up. 'You are the most creasing and tumbling Clumsy-Boots of a
packer, John, that ever was; but if you're quite good, and will promise
never to do so any more (though I don't know what you have done!) you
may pack me a little bag for a night, while I get my bonnet on.'

He gaily complied, and she tied her dimpled chin up, and shook her head
into her bonnet, and pulled out the bows of her bonnet-strin