with you for a few minutes. Since what I
said to you this morning, you have written to Colonel Osborne."

"Yes;--I have. I do not know how you have found it out; but I suppose
you keep a watch on me."

"I keep no watch on you. As I came into the house, I saw your letter
lying in the hall."

"Very well. You could have read it if you pleased."

"Emily, this matter is becoming very serious, and I strongly advise
you to be on your guard in what you say. I will bear much for you,
and much for our boy; but I will not bear to have my name made a
reproach."

"Sir, if you think your name is shamed by me, we had better part,"
said Mrs. Trevelyan, rising from her chair, and confronting him with
a look before which his own almost quailed.

"It may be that we had better part," he said, slowly. "But in the
first place I wish you to tell me what were the contents of that
letter."

"If it was there when you came in, no doubt it is there still. Go and
look at it."

"That is no answer to me. I have desired you to tell me what are its
contents."

"I shall not tell you. I will not demean myself by repeating anything
so insignificant in my own justification. If you suspect me of
writing what I should not write, you will suspect me also of lying to
conceal it."

"Have you heard from Colonel Osborne this morning?"

"I have."

"And where is his letter?"

"I have destroyed it."

Again he paused, trying to think what he had better do, trying to be
calm. And she stood still opposite to him, confronting him with the
scorn of her bright angry eyes. Of course, he was not calm. He was
the very reverse of calm. "And you refuse to tell me what you wrote,"
he said.

"The letter is there," she answered, pointing away towards the door.
"If you want to play the spy, go and look at it for yourself."

"Do you call me a spy?"

"And what have you called me? Because you are a husband, is the
privilege of vituperation to be all on your side?"

"It is impossible that I should put up with this," he said;--"quite
impossible. This would kill me. Anything is better than this. My
present orders to you are not to see Colonel Osborne, not to write
to him or have any communication with him, and to put under cover to
me, unopened, any letter that may come from him. I shall expect your
implicit obedience to these orders."

"Well;--go on."

"Have I your promise?"

"No;--no. You have no promise. I will make no promise exacted from me
in so di