ied."

"Psha! Married! Of course I had married. Everybody marries. You had
married; but I did not suppose that for that reason you would forget me
altogether. People must marry as circumstances suit. It is no good
going back to that old story. Why did you not come to me sooner, and
tell me of this tragedy I Why did you leave me to run after her and
write to her?"

"I have been very unhappy."

"So you ought to be. But things are never so bad in the wearing as in
the anticipation. I don't suppose she'll go about destroying my name
and doing me a mischief?"

"Never."

"Because if she did, you know, I could retaliate."

"What do you mean by that, Mrs. Houghton?"

"Nothing that need disturb you, Lord George. Do not look such daggers
at me. But women have to be forbearing to each other. She is your wife,
and you may be sure I shall never say a nasty word about her,--unless
she makes herself very objectionable to me."

"Nobody can say nasty things about her."

"That is all right, then. And now what have you to say to me about
myself? I am not going to be gloomy because a little misfortune has
happened. It is not my philosophy to cry after spilt milk."

"I will sit down a minute," he said; for hitherto he had been standing.

"Certainly; and I will sit opposite to you,--for ten minutes if you
wish it. I see that there is something to be said. What is it?"

"All that has passed between you and me for the last month or two must
be forgotten."

"Oh, that is it!"

"I will not make her miserable, nor will I bear a burden upon my own
conscience."

"Your conscience! What a speech for a man to make to a woman! And how
about my conscience? And then one thing further. You say that it must
be all forgotten?"

"Yes, indeed."

"Can you forget it?"

"I can strive to do so. By forgetting, one means laying it aside. We
remember chiefly those things which we try to remember."

"And you will not try to remember me--in the least? You will lay me
aside--like an old garment? Because this--angel--has come across a
scrawl which you were too careless either to burn or to lock up! You
will tell yourself to forget me, as you would a servant that you had
dismissed,--much more easily than you would a dog? Is that so?"

"I did not say that I could do it easily."

"You shall not do it at all. I will not be forgotten. Did you ever love
me, sir?"

"Certainly I did. You know that I did."

"When? How long since? Have you ever swor