ther explain himself, and Lucy, to veil her mingled relief and
disquietude, dismissed him with an exhortation to go out.

"You read and read," she cried, glad to throw off a little excitement in
this manner, though she really felt very little anxiety on the subject,
"till you will be all brains and nothing else. I wish you would use your
legs a little too." And then, with a little affectionate push away from
her, she left him in undisturbed possession of his books, and the
morning, which, fine as it was, was not bright enough to tempt him away
from them.

Then Lucy pursued her way to the drawing-room: but she had not gone many
steps before she met her husband, who stopped and asked her a question
or two. Had the boy gone out? It was so fine it would do him good, poor
little beggar; and where was her ladyship going? When he heard she was
going to join the Dowager, Sir Tom smilingly took her hand and drew it
within his own. "Then come here with me for a minute first," he said.
And strange to say, Lucy had no fear. She allowed him to have his way,
thinking it was to show her something, perhaps to ask her advice on some
small matter. He took her into a little room he had, full of trophies of
his travels, a place more distinctively his own than any other in the
house. When he had closed the door a faint little thrill of alarm came
over her. She looked up at him wondering, inquiring. Sir Tom took her by
her arms and drew her towards him in the full light of the window. "Come
and let me look at you, Lucy," he said. "I want to see in your eyes what
it is that makes you afraid of me."

She met his eyes with great bravery and self-command, but nothing could
save her from the nervous quiver which he felt as he held her, or from
the tell-tale ebb and flow of the blood from her face. "I--I am not
afraid of you, Tom."

"Then have you ceased to trust me, Lucy? How is it that you discuss the
most important matters with Jock, who is only a boy, and leave me out?
You do not think that can be agreeable to me."

"Tom," she said; then stopped short, her voice being interrupted by the
fluttering of her heart.

"I told you: you are afraid. What have I ever done to make my wife
afraid of me?" he said.

"Oh, Tom, it is not that! it is only that I felt--there has never been
anything said, and you have always done all, and more than all, that I
wished; but I have felt that you were opposed to me in one thing. I may
be wrong, perhaps," she