ght that he could do she
might be made to live within the reach of this young scoundrel. No
doubt his wife would come back if he would agree to take her back on
her own terms. She would again belong to him if he would agree to take
the Dean along with her. But taking the Dean would be to put himself
into the Dean's leading strings. The Dean was strong and imperious; and
then the Dean was rich. But anything would be better than losing his
wife. Faulty as he thought her to be, she was sweet as no one else was
sweet. When alone with him she would seem to make every word of his a
law. Her caresses were full of bliss to him. When he kissed her her
face would glow with pleasure. Her voice was music to him; her least
touch was joy. There was a freshness about the very things which she
wore which pervaded his senses. There was a homeliness about her beauty
which made her more lovely in her own room than when dressed for balls
and parties. And yet he had heard it said that when dressed she was
declared to be the most lovely woman that had come to London that
season. And now she was about to become the mother of his child. He was
thoroughly in love with his wife. And yet he was told that his wife was
"Jack De Baron's darling!"

CHAPTER XLVIII.

THE MARQUIS MAKES A PROPOSITION.

The next morning was very weary with him, as he had nothing to do till
three o'clock. He was most anxious to know whether his sister-in-law
had in truth left London, but he had no means of finding out. He could
not ask questions on such a subject from Mrs. Walker and her
satellites; and he felt that it would be difficult to ask even his
brother. He was aware that his brother had behaved to him badly, and he
had determined not to be over courteous,--unless, indeed, he should
find his brother to be dangerously ill. But above all things he would
avoid all semblance of inquisitiveness which might seem to have a
reference to the condition of his own unborn child. He walked up and
down St. James' Park thinking of all this, looking up once at the
windows of the house which had brought so much trouble on him, that
house of his which had hardly been his own, but not caring to knock at
the door and enter it. He lunched in solitude at his club, and exactly
at three o'clock presented himself at Scumberg's door. The Marquis's
servant was soon with him, and then again he found himself alone in
that dreary sitting-room. How wretched must his brother be, living