t they are married, and live the life of lovers. When they dine at
a restaurant, he insists on having a private room. He takes her to
public balls, and engages her to dance with him for the whole evening.
When she stays at home and is a little fatigued, he sends me to the
piano, and whirls her round the room in a waltz. 'Nothing revives a
woman,' he says, 'like dancing with the man she loves.' When she is out
of breath, and I shut up the piano, do you know what he does? He
actually kisses Me--and says he is expressing his wife's feeling for me
when she is not able to do it herself! He sometimes dines out with men,
and comes back all on fire with the good wine, and more amiable than
ever. On these occasions his pockets are full of sweetmeats, stolen for
'his angel' from the dessert. 'Am I a little tipsy?' he asks. 'Oh,
don't be angry; it's all for love of you. I have been in the highest
society, my darling; proposing your health over and over and over
again, and drinking to you deeper than all the rest of the company. You
don't blame me? Ah, but I blame myself. I was wrong to leave you, and
dine with men. What do I want with the society of men, when I have your
society? Drinking your health is a lame excuse. I will refuse all
invitations for the future that don't include my wife.' And--mind!--he
really means it, at the time. Two or three days later, he forgets his
good resolutions, and dines with the men again, and comes home with
more charming excuses, and stolen sweetmeats, and good resolutions. I
am afraid I weary you, Mr. Mountjoy?"

"You surprise me," Hugh replied. "Why do I hear all this of Lord
Harry?"

Mrs. Vimpany left her chair. The stage directions of other days had
accustomed her to rise, when the character she played had anything
serious to say. Her own character still felt the animating influence of
dramatic habit: she rose now, and laid her hand impressively on
Mountjoy's shoulder.

"I have not thoughtlessly tried your patience," she said. "Now that I
am away from the influence of Lord Harry, I can recall my former
experience of him: and I am afraid I can see the end that is coming. He
will drift into bad company; he will listen to bad advice; and he will
do things in the future which he might shrink from doing now. When that
time comes, I fear him! I fear him!"

"When that time comes," Hugh repeated, "if I have any influence left
over his wife, he shall find her capable of protecting herself. Will
yo