Not again had Val gone down to Hartledon. With the exception of that
short visit of a day or two, already recorded, he had not been there
since his marriage. He would not go: his wife, though she had her way in
most things, could not induce him to go. She went once or twice, in a
spirit of defiance, it may be said, and meanwhile he remained in
London, or took a short trip to the Continent, as the whim prompted him.
Once they had gone abroad together, and remained for some months; taking
servants and the children, for there were two children now; and the
little fellow who had clasped the finger of Mr. Carr was a sturdy boy of
three years old.

Lady Hartledon's health was beginning to fail. The doctors told her she
must be more quiet; she went out a great deal, and seemed to live only
in the world. Her husband remonstrated with her on the score of health;
but she laughed, and said she was not going to give up pleasure just yet.
Of course these gay habits are more easily acquired than relinquished.
Lady Hartledon had fainting-fits; she felt occasional pain and
palpitation in the region of the heart; and she grew thin without
apparent cause. She said nothing about it, lest it should be made a plea
for living more quietly; never dreaming of danger. Had she known what
caused her brother's death her fears might possibly have been awakened.
Lord Hartledon suspected mischief might be arising, and cautiously
questioned her; she denied that anything was the matter, and he felt
reassured. His chief care was to keep her free from excitement; and in
this hope he gave way to her more than he would otherwise have done. But
alas! the moment was approaching when all his care would be in vain; when
the built-up security of years was destroyed by a single act of wilful
disobedience to him. The sword so long suspended over his head, was to
fall on hers at last.

One spring afternoon, in London, he was in his wife's sitting-room; the
little room where you have seen her before, looking upon the Park. The
children were playing on the carpet--two pretty little things; the girl
eighteen months old.

"Take care!" suddenly called out Lady Hartledon.

Some one was opening the door, and the little Maude was too near to it.
She ran and picked up the child, and Hedges came in with a card for his
master, saying at the same time that the gentleman was waiting. Lord
Hartledon held it to the fire to read the name.

"Who is it?" asked Lady Hartledon,