about Violet Vere. She merely
explained that she had suddenly fainted, in which condition Sir Francis
had taken advantage of her helplessness to insult her.

Mrs. Lorimer was highly indignant. "Tell your husband all about it, my
dear!" she advised. "He's big enough, and strong enough, to give that
little snob a good trouncing! My patience! I wish George were in
London--he'd lend a hand and welcome!"

And the old lady nodded her head violently over the sock she was
knitting,--the making of socks for her beloved son was her principal
occupation and amusement.

"But I hear," said Thelma, "that it is against the law to strike any
one, no matter how you have been insulted. If so,--then Philip would be
punished for attacking Sir Francis, and that would not be fair."

"You didn't think of that, child, when you struck Lennox yourself,"
returned Mrs. Lorimer, laughing. "And I guarantee you gave him a good
hard blow,--and serve him right! Never mind what comes of it, my
dearie--just tell your husband as soon as ever he comes home, and let
him take the matter into his own hands. He's a fine man--he'll know how
to defend the pretty wife he loves so well!" And she smiled, while her
shining knitting-needles clicked faster than ever.

Thelma's face saddened a little. "I think I am not worthy of his love,"
she said sorrowfully.

Mrs. Lorimer looked at her with some inquisitiveness.

"What makes you say that, my dear?"

"Because I feel it so much," she replied. "Dear Mrs. Lorimer, you
cannot, perhaps, understand--but when he married me, it seemed as if the
old story of the king and the beggar-maid were being repeated over
again. I sought nothing but his love--his love was, and is my life!
These riches--these jewels and beautiful things he surrounds me with--I
do not care for them at all, except for the reason that he wishes me to
have them. I scarcely understand their value, for I have been poor all
my life, and yet I have wanted nothing. I do not think wealth is needful
to make one happy. But love--ah! I could not live without it--and
now--now--" She paused, and her eyes filled with sudden tears.

"Now what?" asked Mrs. Lorimer gently.

"Now," continued the girl in a low voice, "my heart is always afraid!
Yes! I am afraid of losing my husband's love. Ah, do not laugh at me,
dear Mrs. Lorimer! You know people who are much together sometimes get
tired,--tired of seeing the same face always,--the same form--"

"Are _you_ tire