did
he mean? Oh, it was just part of his illness. She must go on bearing her
burden as she had borne it these many months. Her rightful position was
in a London ball-room. Instead of which, she had to be shut up in an
Alpine village: a hard lot. It was little enough pleasure she could get,
and apparently her husband grudged her that. His manner to her this
afternoon was not such as to encourage her to stay in from her drive on
another occasion. To-morrow she would go sledging.

That flash of light which reveals ourselves to ourselves had not yet
come to Mrs. Reffold.

She looked at her husband, and thought from his restfulness that he had
gone to sleep, and she was just beginning to write to that particular
friend at Cannes, to tell her what a trial she was undergoing, when
Mr. Reffold called her to his side.

"Winifred," he said gently, and there was tenderness in his voice, and
love written on his face, "Winifred, I am sorry if I have been sharp to
you. Little Brick says we mustn't come down like sledge-hammers on each
other; and that is what I have been doing this afternoon. Perhaps I have
been hard: I am such an illness to myself, that I must be an illness to
others too. And you weren't meant for this sort of thing--were you? You
are a bright beautiful creature, and I am an unfortunate dog not to have
been able to make you happier. I know I am irritable. I can't help
myself, indeed I can't."

This great long fellow was so yearning for love and sympathy.

What would it not have been to him if she had gathered him into her
arms, and soothed all his irritability and suffering with her love?

But she pressed his hand, and kissed him lightly on the cheek, and told
him that he had been a little sharp, but that she quite understood, and
that she was not hurt. Her charm of manner gave him some satisfaction;
and when Bernardine came in a few minutes later, she found Mr. Reffold
looking happier and more contented than she had ever seen him.
Mrs. Reffold, who was relieved at the interruption, received Bernardine
warmly, though there was a certain amount of shyness which she had never
been able to conquer in Bernardine's presence. There was something in
the younger woman which quelled Mrs. Reffold: it may have been some
mental quality, or it may have been her boots!

"Little Brick," said Mr. Reffold, "isn't it nice to have Winifred here?
And I have been so disagreeable and snappish."

"Oh, we won't say anything about