station with a fine air of
reserve, and bade his coachman drive to Hulworth in the same manner in
which a statesman might impart a Cabinet secret to his secretary. The
brougham drove on through the grim stone gates of Hulworth and
deposited the canon before the flight of steps leading to the front
door. He decided, if possible, not to partake of any food in the
house, nor even to sit down if this could be avoided. He was not going
to blame Sir Nigel yet, but, to say the least of it, he thought that he
had been unwise. The canon stood with his back to the fire in the
drawing-room, looking judicial and massive. Presently Mrs. Wrottesley
came in and saluted her husband with that calm affection which
twenty-five years of married life may engender.

He stooped and kissed her gravely. 'My love,' he said, 'this is not
the place for you.'

It seemed to Mrs. Wrottesley to come very suddenly to her that almost
for the first time in their married life there was going to be a real
matter of difference between her husband and herself, in which neither
meant to give in. She regretted in her quiet way that it should be so.

'Remember,' said Canon Wrottesley kindly, 'that I don't in any way
blame Sir Nigel; I think he is foolish, and I think, considering Mrs.
Avory's position, she has been more than foolish. A woman who is
separated from her husband cannot be too careful.'

'I am afraid,' said Mrs. Wrottesley, with regret in her voice, and
coming straight to the point at once in her graceful way, 'that I must
stay here for the present.'

The canon, although he had not intended doing so, sat down abruptly on
one of the drawing-room chairs.

It was a horrible time for both these affectionate elderly people who
had always lived a peaceful, orderly, well-conducted life together, and
whose home had been, in the mind of the canon at least, the model
household of the neighbourhood. Also, it was a real shock to him to
realize that Henrietta did not mean to yield in this matter. She spoke
with regret, but she spoke firmly. It must always be a surprise--even
to a prophet--when a dumb creature speaks, and in a certain sense Mrs.
Wrottesley had always been dumb. And now, after years of silence and
affectionate wifely submission, Mrs. Wrottesley was asserting herself.

'You must be reasonable, dear,' her husband said at last.

Mrs. Wrottesley replied, 'I want to be reasonable;' and she told him
the whole story of how her presen