here was now
something in Jane's, and his own, past which must not be referred to,
and indeed he had promised himself never to name it.

But a past that is buried alive is a difficult ghost to lay, and he
feared Jane would not be satisfied until she had opened the dismal
grave of their dead happiness again--and perhaps again and again. He set
his lips straight and firm during this reflection, and said something of
which only the last four words were audible, "Thy grace is sufficient."

However, there was no trace of a disposition to resume a painful
argument in Jane's words or attitude. She looked pale from headache and
wakefulness, but was dressed with her usual care, and was even more than
usually solicitous about his comfort and satisfaction. Still John
noticed the false note of make-believe through all her attentions and he
was hardly sorry when she ended a conversation about Harry's affairs by
a sudden and unexpected reversion to her own. "John," she said, with
marked interest, "I was telling you last night about my visit to Hatton
Hall while you were in London. You interrupted and then left me. Have
you any objections to my finishing the story now? I shall not go to
Hatton Hall again and as mother declines to tell her own fault, it is
only fair to me that you know the whole truth. I don't want you to think
worse of me than is necessary."

"Tell me whatever you wish, Jane, then we will forget the subject."

"As if that were possible! O John, as if it were possible to forget one
hour of our life together!"

"You are right. It is not possible--no, indeed!"

"Well, John, when I left Harlow House that afternoon, I went straight to
Hatton Hall. It was growing late, but I expected to have a cup of tea
there and perhaps, if asked, stay all night and have a good wise talk
over the things that troubled me. When I arrived at the Hall your mother
had just returned from the village. She was sitting by the newly-made
fire with her cloak and bonnet on but they were both unfastened and her
furs and gloves had been removed. She looked troubled, and even angry,
and when I spoke to her, barely answered me. I sat down and began to
tell her I had been at Harlow all day. She did not inquire after
mother's health and took no interest in any remark I made."

"That was very unlike my mother."

"It was, John. Finally I said, 'I see that you are troubled about
something, mother,' and she answered sharply, 'Yes, I'm troubled and
ple