ngers,--had observed that Thelma looked
unhappy, while he, her husband, had been blind to it? He could not make
this out,--and yet it is a thing that very commonly happens. Our nearest
and dearest are often those who are most in the dark respecting our
private and personal sufferings,--we do not wish to trouble them,--and
they prefer to think that everything is right with us, even though the
rest of the world can plainly perceive that everything is wrong. To the
last moment they will refuse to see death in our faces, though the
veriest stranger meeting us casually, clearly beholds the shadow of the
dark Angel's hand.

"_Apropos_ of Lennox," went on Lorimer, sympathetically watching his
friend, "I came on purpose to speak to you about him. I've got some news
for you. He's a regular sneak and scoundrel. You can thrash him to your
heart's content for he has grossly insulted your wife."

"_Insulted_ her?" cried Errington furiously. "How,--What--"

"Give me time to speak!" And George laid a restraining hand on his arm.
"Thelma visited my mother yesterday and told her that on the night
before, when you had gone out, Lennox took advantage of your absence to
come here and make love to her,--and she actually had to struggle with
him, and even to strike him, in order to release herself from his
advances. My mother advised her to tell you about it--and she evidently
then had no intention of flight, for she said she would inform you of
everything as soon as you returned from the country. And if Lady
Winsleigh hadn't interfered, it's very probable that--I say, where are
you going?" This as Philip made a bound for the door.

"To get my horsewhip!" he answered.

"All right--I approve!" cried Lorimer. "But wait one instant, and see
how clear the plot becomes. Thelma's beauty had maddened Lennox,--to
gain her good opinion, as he thinks, he throws his mistress, Violet
Vere, on _your_ shoulders--(your ingenuous visits to the Brilliant
Theatre gave him a capital pretext for this) and as for Lady Winsleigh's
share in the mischief, it's nothing but mere feminine spite against you
for marrying at all, and hatred of the woman whose life is such a
contrast to her own, and who absorbs all your affection. Lennox has used
her as his tool and the Vere also, I've no doubt. The thing's as clear
as crystal. It's a sort of general misunderstanding all round--one of
those eminently unpleasant trifles that very frequently upset the peace
and comfort