"Hard?" cried Marie. "Oh no! You do not know all," she was about to say, but she refrained, and went on: "Clotilde has altered since her marriage. I think we should be happier apart. Help me in this, dear husband. It would be better so." He raised her face, and gazed tenderly into her wild eyes, as he said: "Your happiness is my care, Marie, my child. I promised to try and make your home one of rest and peace. Ask me what you will, and it shall be done." "Then you will keep our lives separate from my sister's," she cried eagerly. "If you asked me my wishes on the subject," he said quietly, and he smiled as he spoke. "I should gladly cut myself off from all connection with Mr Elbraham and his wife. But we have our social duties to perform, Marie, even if they are against our taste." "Duties!" cried Marie excitedly; "it is my duty to avoid my sister, yours to keep us apart. Believe me, this is for the best." "I gladly follow out your wishes, my child," said Lord Henry, "and I will ask you no more questions if you will try to let this cloud go by." "Yes, yes," she cried eagerly, "it is gone;" and she flung her arms round his neck, and sobbed hysterically upon his breast. "There," she cried with a piteous smile, for the face of Marcus Glen seemed to haunt her still. "Now I am quite calm, and I have a petition to make." "What is it?" he said with a sigh of relief, and the lines in his face grew less deep. "I want you to let me ask my cousin Ruth to come and stay with me--to be like a companion to me. Don't think," she hastened to add, "that I am dull and want companions, but I have a double object to perform." "Yes?" he said inquiringly. "I wish--I want to withdraw her from Clotilde's influence." "A good and worthy desire, my child," he said, bowing his approval. "I like Ruth very, very much. She is sweet, and natural, and true." "She is," cried Marie eagerly. "And your other object?" "I wish to watch over her, and to try and influence her future. She would be happier with me, and if she is to marry I should like hers to be a worthy choice." "Of course, yes, you are quite right; and what do you say--shall we fetch her here?" "Yes," cried Marie eagerly. "When? To-day?" "Yes--no," replied Marie. "I am not strong enough; I am not calm enough to-day. I will write and ask her to be ready to-morrow, and, if you will do it, let us drive down and fetch her."