tete-a-tete_ must come. She did not set herself to
tell him who her husband was on this particular morning--about that she
must be guided by events--but she could not make barriers between them,
and must allow him to come to her sitting-room. He did, about half-past
ten o'clock, his face full of radiance and love. She had always
steadfastly refused to take any presents from him, but he had had the
most beautiful flowers sent from Paris for her, and they had just
arrived. She was taking them out of their box herself. This made a
pretext for her to express delighted thanks, and for a little she played
her part so well that all Henry's doubts were set at rest, and he told
himself that he had been imaginative and foolish to think that anything
was changed in her.

He helped her to put all the lovely blooms into vases, so happy to
think they should give her pleasure. And all the while he talked to her
lovingly and soothingly, until Sabine could have screamed aloud, so full
of remorse and constraint she felt. If he would only be disagreeable or
unkind!

At last, among the giant violets, they came upon one bunch of white
ones. These she took and separated, and, making them into two, she stuck
one into her belt and gave Henry the other to put into his coat.

"Won't you fasten them in for me, dearest?" he said, his whole
countenance full of passionate love.

She came nearer, and with hasty fingers put the flowers into his
buttonhole.

The temptation was too great for Henry. He put his arm round her and
drew her to his side, while he bent and kissed her sweet red mouth.

She did not resist him or start away, but she grew white as death, and
he was conscious that, as he clasped her close, a repressed shudder ran
through her whole frame.

With a little cry of anguish he put her from him, and searched with
miserable eyes for some message in her face. But her lids were lowered
and her lips were quivering with some pain.

"My darling, what is it? Sabine, you shrank from me! What does it mean?"

"It means--nothing, Henry." And the poor child tried to smile. "Only
that I am very foolish and silly, and I do not believe I like
caresses--much." And then, to make things sound more light, she went on:
"You see, I have had so few of them in my life. You must be patient with
me until I learn to--understand."

Of course he would be patient, he assured her, and asked her to forgive
him if he had been brusque, his refined voice full o