ns with his step-daughter and Miss Brent
renewed themselves more than once. He welcomed any pretext for escaping
from the unprofitable round of his thoughts, and these woodland
explorations, with their gay rivalry of search for some rare plant or
elusive bird, and the contact with the child's happy wonder, and with
the morning brightness of Justine's mood, gave him his only moments of
self-forgetfulness.

But the first time that Cicely's chatter carried home an echo of their
adventures, Amherst saw a cloud on his wife's face. Her resentment of
Justine's influence over the child had long since subsided, and in the
temporary absence of the governess she was glad to have Cicely amused;
but she was never quite satisfied that those about her should have
pursuits and diversions in which she did not share. Her jealousy did not
concentrate itself on her husband and Miss Brent: Amherst had never
shown any inclination for the society of other women, and if the
possibility had been suggested to her, she would probably have said that
Justine was not "in his style"--so unconscious is a pretty woman apt to
be of the versatility of masculine tastes. But Amherst saw that she felt
herself excluded from amusements in which she had no desire to join, and
of which she consequently failed to see the purpose; and he gave up
accompanying his stepdaughter.

Bessy, as if in acknowledgment of his renunciation, rose earlier in
order to prolong their rides together. Dr. Wyant had counselled her
against the fatigue of following the hounds, and she instinctively
turned their horses away from the course the hunt was likely to take;
but now and then the cry of the pack, or the flash of red on a distant
slope, sent the blood to her face and made her press her mare to a
gallop. When they escaped such encounters she showed no great zest in
the exercise, and their rides resolved themselves into a spiritless
middle-aged jog along the autumn lanes. In the early days of their
marriage the joy of a canter side by side had merged them in a community
of sensation beyond need of speech; but now that the physical spell had
passed they felt the burden of a silence that neither knew how to break.

Once only, a moment's friction galvanized these lifeless rides. It was
one morning when Bessy's wild mare Impulse, under-exercised and
over-fed, suddenly broke from her control, and would have unseated her
but for Amherst's grasp on the bridle.

"The horse is not fit