apology and misgiving--a
state of things inexpressibly unsatisfactory to a woman who knows how to
love and how to trust.

Sydney, only half-conscious that something was wrong, had no idea how to
mend matters, and was, therefore, in a fair way to make them worse.
Frankness would have appeared brutal to him, and he did not see how
subtly poisonous was the effect of his habits of concealment upon his
wife's mind. Gifted with the instinct of discernment, which in sensitive
women is almost like a sort of second-sight, she knew, without knowing
how she knew, that he had trouble which he did not confide to her,
secrets which his tongue would never tell. He could deceive her as to
their existence so long as the period of illusion lasted; but as soon as
her eyes were opened her sight became very keen indeed. And he,
believing himself always successful in throwing dust in her eyes,
fancied that her wistful look, her occasional unresponsiveness to his
caresses, proceeded from physical causes only, and would with them also
pass away.

Thus December left them, and the dark foggy days of January flew apace.
It was close upon February before Nan recovered from a severe cold which
had assailed her about Christmas time, and left her very weak. For a
week or two she was confined entirely to her room, and when she came
downstairs she was forced for a time to keep to the warm atmosphere of
one sitting-room. But one day, when February was close at hand, and the
fogs had begun to clear away, she felt so much stronger that she
resolved to make a new departure and show Sydney that she was really
better. Instead of going into the drawing-room, therefore, she came down
another flight of stairs, and resolved to establish herself in Sydney's
study, ready to greet him on his return.

But Sydney was late, and she was rather weaker than she knew. She had
her tea, and ordered lights to be brought in, and the curtains drawn,
but still he did not come. Then she found that the lights hurt her eyes,
and she had them extinguished--all but one small silver lamp which stood
on a centre-table, and gave a very subdued light. Her maid came and put
a soft fur rug over her, and at her orders moved a screen of carved
woodwork, brought from an Arab building in Algeria, between her and the
fire before she left the room. Thus comfortably installed, the warmth
and the dimness of the light speedily made Nan sleepy. She forgot to
listen for the sound of her husband'