le was set for four, two of whom could only be present in spirit.

I wondered if I were glad or sorry to see it--if I were more pleased
with his loyalty to his absent employer, or disappointed that my
presence had not made everybody else forgotten. To be consistent, I
should have rejoiced at this evidence of sterling worth on his part; but
girls are not consistent--at least, brides of an hour are not--and I may
have pouted the least bit in the world as I pointed to the two places
set as elaborately as our own, and said with the daring which comes with
the rights of a wife:

"It would be a startling coincidence if Mrs. Ransome and her daughter
should return today. I fear I would not like it."

I was looking directly at him as I spoke, with a smile on my lips and my
hand on the back of my chair. But the jest I had expected in reply did
not come. Something in my tone or choice of topic jarred upon him, and
his answer was a simple wave of his hand towards Ambrose, who at once
relieved me of my bouquet, placing it in a tall glass at the side of my
plate.

"Now we will sit," said he.

I do not know how the meal would have passed had Ambrose not been
present. As it was, it was a rather formal affair, and would have been
slightly depressing, if I had not caught, now and then, flashing glances
from my husband's eye which assured me that he found as much to enchain
him in my presence as I did in his. What we ate I have no idea of. I
only remember that in every course there was enough for four.

As we rose, I was visited by a daring impulse. Ambrose had poured me out
a glass of wine, which stood beside my plate undisturbed. As I stooped
to recover my flowers again, I saw this glass, and at once lifted it
towards him, crying:

"To Mrs. Ransome and her daughter, who did _not_ return to enjoy our
wedding-breakfast."

He recoiled. Yes, I am sure he gave a start back, though he recovered
himself immediately and responded with grave formality to my toast.

"Does he not like Mrs. Ransome?" I thought. "Is the somewhat onerous
custom he maintains here the result of a sense of duty rather than of
liking?"

My curiosity was secretly whetted by the thought. But with a girl's
lightness I began to talk of other things, and first of the house, which
I now for the first time looked at with anything like seeing eyes.

He was patient with me, but I perceived he did not enjoy this topic any
more than the former one. "It is not ours," he