quietly, "that you're unhappily
married."

"How do you know?" demanded Edith, crimson with surprise and
mortification. "Did--did your mother tell you?"

"No, she didn't--most decidedly she didn't. I just know, that's all."

"How? Do I betray myself so completely as that?"

He answered her question by another. "How did you know, the night you
came, that I was surprised and not altogether pleased by the fact that
you had brought a trunk? Were my manners as bad as all that?"

"Why, no--I just knew."

"And how did you know, this morning, when we were sitting on the
window-seat, that I was wondering whether or not you wore false hair?"

"Why--I just knew."

"That's it, exactly."

"How long have you--known?"

"Ask me something easier than that," he laughed, endeavouring to relieve
a situation that threatened to become awkward. Following his lead, she
began to ask questions about the vineyard, and, when he told her he
feared he knew very little about his work, suggested that he should read
up on vine-culture and make it the best-paying vineyard in the State.

[Sidenote: An Afternoon Drive]

"Has mother been talking to you?" he demanded, turning to her quickly.

"About the vineyard? No. But, if it's your work, why not do it better
than anybody else does it?"

Alden looked at her long and earnestly. The golden lights of her eyes
were thrown into shadow now, for it was afternoon and they were driving
east. Her answering smile gave him confidence, courage. Moreover, it
challenged him in some subtle way he could not analyse. It dared him, as
it were, to make the best of the vineyard--and himself.

"Thank you," he said, at length. "I believe--I will."

The divine moment passed, and, for the remainder of the drive, they
talked commonplaces. But the fresh air from the hills, the freedom of
the wind-swept spaces, the steady aspiration of everything that lived,
brought the colour to Edith's cheeks, the sparkle to her eyes, and
ministered secretly to her soul. When she went in, she looked happier
than she had since she came. Madame saw it and was glad, but wisely said
nothing.

She came down at dinner-time in a black lace gown trimmed with spangles
that glittered when she moved. It was cut away slightly from the
rounded, ivory throat, and the white arms were bare to the elbow. The
upper parts of the sleeves were made of black velvet ribbon, latticed
into small diamond-shaped openings through which the satin texture o