She fought against this feeling, but it seemed to strengthen, especially as Clotilde kept smiling in a triumphant way--so it seemed to her; and Marie shivered as she felt that she was beginning to hate this sister of hers. It only wanted Clotilde's confession to seal the growing feud, and make Marie's dislike grow into hate indeed. "How little we see of each other now, love!" began Clotilde. "I thought, dear, that when we were married we should be inseparable. Is it my fault?" "My husband is very fond of quiet," said Marie. "We go out but seldom." "Poor old gentleman!" said Clotilde mockingly. "I hope you nurse him well." Marie started, but she said nothing, and Clotilde went on: "Isn't it nice, dear, to be one's own mistress, with plenty of money at one's command, and as much jewellery as one likes? Do you remember how we used to long for it all?" "Yes, I remember," replied Marie, sighing in spite of herself. "You remember? Yes, and you sigh about it. Why, Rie, you ought to be as merry as the day is long. Lord Henry is a dear old fellow. How much older, though, he seems than Elbraham! I say, Rie, wouldn't you like to change?" "The conversation?" said Marie. "Yes; certainly." "No, my dear, not the conversation, but husbands. Poor old Rie! I rather pity you, for Lord Henry is decidedly slow." "Clotilde," said Marie, with dignity. "Lord Henry Moorpark is my dear husband and your guest. The way in which you are speaking of him gives me pain." "Pain? Why, Rie, what stuff you are talking--and to me! Heigho! it seems very hard upon us that we should have had to marry these wretched old men, instead of such fellows as--say Captain Glen." "How can you speak like that, Clo!" cried her sister, flushing. "I beg you will be silent." "Beg, then," retorted Clotilde, with a resumption of her old schoolroom ways. "Who cares? I shall talk as I like." "Do you think it is respectful to your husband or your duty as a woman to speak of--of--that man as you do." "Oh yes," replied Clotilde carelessly. "Why not? I liked Marcus Glen ever so." "Clotilde! for heaven's sake be silent. Think of your position--of what you are. Your words are terrible." "Terrible? What, because I said I liked Marcus Glen? Why, so I do. He's a splendid fellow." Marie's eyes sought the door, but they were quite alone, and she glanced back at her sister with a look of disgust and annoyance painted upon her face in vivid colours. "Oh, there's no one to hear us, and I don't mind what I say before you, Rie. You won't go and tell tales. You dare not. I say dare," she continued, with a malignantly spiteful look in her countenance. "You were fond of Marcus Glen, weren't you?" Marie did not reply, but sat there with an outraged look upon her face, and Clotilde smiled to herself, and her eyes glittered with malicious delight as she went on: "Do you know, Rie, I have a good mind to quarrel with you to-night, as I have got you here."