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"I must try not
to weary him," she continued softly--"I must have done so in some way,
or he would not be tired. But as for what I have heard,--it is not for
me to ask him questions. I would not have him think that I mistrust him.
No--there is some fault in me--something he does not like, or he would
never go to--" She broke off and stretched out her hands with a sort of
wild appeal. "Oh, Philip! my darling!" she exclaimed in a sobbing
whisper. "I always knew I was not worthy of you--but I thought,--I hoped
my love would make amends for all my shortcomings!"
Tears rushed into her eyes, and she turned to a little arched recess,
shaded by velvet curtains--her oratory--where stood an exquisite white
marble statuette of the Virgin and Child. There she knelt for some
minutes, her face hidden in her hands, and when she rose she was quite
calm, though very pale. She freshened her face with cold water,
rearranged her disordered hair,--and then went downstairs, thereby
running into the arms of her husband who was coming up again to look, as
he said, at his "Sleeping Beauty.


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