and at her side to drive for her," was the reply of Lionel.

"Well--if I had such a husband as you to drive for me, I don't know but
I might subscribe to that doctrine," candidly avowed Mrs. Jocelyn. "_I_
would not miss these ponies, were I Mrs. Verner. You can drive them, you
know. They are calling me. It is my turn, I suppose."

She ran back to the shooting, Sibylla was following her, but Lionel
caught her hand and drew her into a covered walk. Placing her hand
within his arm, he began to pace it.

"I must go back, too, Lionel."

"Presently. Sibylla, I have been terribly vexed this morning."

"Oh, now Lionel, don't you begin about 'vexing,'" interrupted Sibylla,
in the foolish, light, affected manner, which had grown worse of late,
more intolerable to Lionel. "I have ordered the ponies. Poynton will
send them in; and if there's really not room in the stables, you must
see about it, and give orders that room must be made."

"I cannot buy the ponies," he firmly said. "My dear, I have given in to
your every wish, to your most trifling whim; but, as I told you a few
days ago, these ever-recurring needless expenses I cannot stand.
Sibylla"--and his voice grew hoarse--"do you know that I am becoming
embarrassed?"

"I don't care if you are," pouted Sibylla. "I must have the ponies."

His heart ached. Was this the loving wife--the intelligent companion for
whom he had once yearned?--the friend who should be as his own soul? He
had married the Sibylla of his imagination; and he woke to find
Sibylla--what she was. The disappointment was heavy upon him always; but
there were moments when he could have cried out aloud in its sharp
bitterness.

"Sibylla, you know the state in which some of my tenants live; the
miserable dwellings they are forced to inhabit. I must change this state
of things. I believe it to be a duty for which I am accountable to God.
How am I to set about it if you ruin me?"

Sibylla put her fingers to her ears. "I can't stand to listen when you
preach, Lionel. It is as bad as a sermon."

[Illustration: Sibylla put her fingers to her ears.]

It was ever thus. He could not attempt to reason with her. Anything like
sensible conversation she could not, or would not, hold. Lionel,
considerate to her as he ever was, felt provoked.

"Do you know that this unfortunate affair of Alice Hook's is laid
remotely to me?" he said, with a sternness, which he could not help, in
his tone. "People are saying that i