handed Lady Milborough the letter, which she read very
slowly, and with much care.

"I don't think I would--would--would--"

"Would what?" demanded Trevelyan.

"Don't you think that what you say is a little,--just a little prone
to make,--to make the breach perhaps wider?"

"No, Lady Milborough. In the first place, how can it be wider?"

"You might take her back, you know; and then if you could only get to
Naples!"

"How can I take her back while she is corresponding with this man?"

"She wouldn't correspond with him at Naples."

Trevelyan shook his head and became cross. His old friend would not
at all do as old friends are expected to do when called upon for
advice.

"I think," said he, "that what I have proposed is both just and
generous."

"But, Louis, why should there be any separation?"

"She has forced it upon me. She is headstrong, and will not be
ruled."

"But this about disgracing you. Do you think that you must say that?"

"I think I must, because it is true. If I do not tell her the truth,
who is there that will do so? It may be bitter now, but I think that
it is for her welfare."

"Dear, dear, dear!"

"I want nothing for myself, Lady Milborough."

"I am sure of that, Louis."

"My whole happiness was in my home. No man cared less for going out
than I did. My child and my wife were everything to me. I don't
suppose that I was ever seen at a club in the evening once throughout
a season. And she might have had anything that she liked,--anything!
It is hard, Lady Milborough; is it not?"

Lady Milborough, who had seen the angry brow, did not dare to suggest
Naples again. But yet, if any word might be spoken to prevent this
utter wreck of a home, how good a thing it would be! He had got up to
leave her, but she stopped him by holding his hand. "For better, for
worse, Louis; remember that."

"Why has she forgotten it?"

"She is flesh of your flesh, bone of your bone. And for the boy's
sake! Think of your boy, Louis. Do not send that letter. Sleep on it,
Louis, and think of it."

"I have slept on it."

"There is no promise in it of forgiveness after a while. It is
written as though you intended that she should never come back to
you."

"That shall be as she behaves herself."

"But tell her so. Let there be some one bright spot in what you say
to her, on which her mind may fix itself. If she be not altogether
hardened, that letter will drive her to despair."

But Trevelyan would n