like a fairy-tale, I used to think sometimes I was like an
enchanted princess, living in a wonderful castle--with my prince...." Her
voice sank to a whisper, and she gazed out over the flower-strewn meadows
with a wide-eyed glance which saw nothing.

Herrick's big heart, which in spite of his life's tragedy held still an
infinite compassion for all weak and helpless things, was wrung with
pity for this poor little creature, whose eyes had been opened so
cruelly to the fact that life was not all an enchanted fairyland; and
when he spoke his deep voice was very gentle.

"See here, little lady, you mustn't take all this to heart. These women
were talking, you must remember, without any intimate knowledge of your
affairs; and we all know that gossip is eminently uncharitable. Besides,
loyalty to your husband should make you believe in him and his love."

"I do." She stopped abruptly, then went on again more impetuously. "But
the worst of it is, I believe it is true, what they said. I _am_
ignorant and silly. I hate going out to parties; I never feel at ease, I
make foolish mistakes. Owen has been very kind, he has only laughed, but
it must have been horrid for him to have such a foolish wife. At home,
too ... it's quite true I haven't helped him. I've been out all day
enjoying myself, and not bothering about his work. I did at first, and I
made such stupid blunders that he used to have to do it all over again."

"Well, that's nothing." He spoke lightly. "After all, you are not a
literary expert like your husband, and you can't be expected to do his
work."

"No." She caught her white teeth fiercely in her lip. "But lots of women
could have helped him. This one they spoke of--they said she was clever,
accomplished, just the sort of wife for a man like Owen--not a stupid
little dummy like me. And"--she paused, and every tinge of colour faded
out of her face--"they said I was common--not a lady. Mr. Herrick, am I
common? Am I--not a lady?"

With her eyes on his face, eyes full of a desperate hurt, Herrick felt a
wild, impotent desire to strangle the two mischief-makers who had
changed this girl's joy into bitterness, had turned a child's enchanted
castle into a structure of pasteboard; but when he spoke his tone was
admirably light.

"My dear child, now you are talking absolute nonsense. Common? Well, to
me commonness consists in common behaviour, mean tempers, a nasty,
spiteful attitude of mind, a discontent with one's