doing that?"

"Well, you follow out your own ideas, and won't give in to mine when
I wish you to leave off this shameful labour. Is there anything you
dislike in me that you act so contrarily to my wishes? I am your wife,
and why will you not listen? Yes, I am your wife indeed!"

"I know what that tone means."

"What tone?"

"The tone in which you said, 'Your wife indeed.' It meant, 'Your wife,
worse luck.'"

"It is hard in you to probe me with that remark. A woman may have
reason, though she is not without heart, and if I felt 'worse luck,' it
was no ignoble feeling--it was only too natural. There, you see that at
any rate I do not attempt untruths. Do you remember how, before we were
married, I warned you that I had not good wifely qualities?"

"You mock me to say that now. On that point at least the only noble
course would be to hold your tongue, for you are still queen of me,
Eustacia, though I may no longer be king of you."

"You are my husband. Does not that content you?"

"Not unless you are my wife without regret."

"I cannot answer you. I remember saying that I should be a serious
matter on your hands."

"Yes, I saw that."

"Then you were too quick to see! No true lover would have seen any such
thing; you are too severe upon me, Clym--I won't like your speaking so
at all."

"Well, I married you in spite of it, and don't regret doing so. How
cold you seem this afternoon! and yet I used to think there never was a
warmer heart than yours."

"Yes, I fear we are cooling--I see it as well as you," she sighed
mournfully. "And how madly we loved two months ago! You were never tired
of contemplating me, nor I of contemplating you. Who could have thought
then that by this time my eyes would not seem so very bright to yours,
nor your lips so very sweet to mine? Two months--is it possible? Yes,
'tis too true!"

"You sigh, dear, as if you were sorry for it; and that's a hopeful
sign."

"No. I don't sigh for that. There are other things for me to sigh for,
or any other woman in my place."

"That your chances in life are ruined by marrying in haste an
unfortunate man?"

"Why will you force me, Clym, to say bitter things? I deserve pity as
much as you. As much?--I think I deserve it more. For you can sing! It
would be a strange hour which should catch me singing under such a cloud
as this! Believe me, sweet, I could weep to a degree that would astonish
and confound such an elastic mind as yours. Even h