ame at the foot; and old Mrs. Julaper says he was the father of the
unhappy lady who was said to have been drowned near Snakes Island."

"Well, suppose he is; there's nothing interesting in that. It is a
disgusting picture. I connect it with my illness; and I think it is the
kind of thing that would make any one half mad, if they only looked at
it often enough. Tell them to burn it; and come away, come to the next
room; I can't say what I want here."

Sir Bale seemed to grow more and more agitated the longer he remained in
the room. He seemed to her both frightened and furious; and taking her a
little roughly by the wrist, he led her through the door.

When they were in another apartment alone, he again asked the affrighted
lady who had told her that picture was there, and who told her to clean
it.

She had only the truth to plead. It was, from beginning to end, the
merest accident.

"If I thought, Janet, that you were taking counsel of others, talking me
over, and trying clever experiments--" he stopped short with his eyes
fixed on hers with black suspicion.

His wife's answer was one pleading look, and to burst into tears.

Sir Bale let-go her wrist, which he had held up to this; and placing his
hand gently on her shoulder, he said,

"You must not cry, Janet; I have given you no excuse for tears. I only
wished an answer to a very harmless question; and I am sure you would
tell me, if by any chance you have lately seen Philip Feltram; he is
capable of arranging all that. No one knows him as I do. There, you must
not cry any more; but tell me truly, has he turned up? is he at
Faxwell?"

She denied all this with perfect truth; and after a hesitation of some
time, the matter ended. And as soon as she and he were more themselves,
he had something quite different to tell her.

"Sit down, Janet; sit down, and forget that vile picture and all I have
been saying. What I came to tell you, I think you will like; I am sure
it will please you."

And with this little preface he placed his arm about her neck, and
kissed her tenderly. She certainly was pleased; and when his little
speech was over, she, smiling, with her tears still wet upon her cheeks,
put her arms round her husband's neck, and in turn kissed him with the
ardour of gratitude, kissed him affectionately; again and again thanking
him all the time.

It was no great matter, but from Sir Bale Mardykes it was something
quite unusual.

Was it a sudden whim?