without all this clamour? Do you wish the servants to see how you treat your husband?" "I will see to that," said Lady Bryn Afon coldly, touching impatiently with her foot the broken fragments upon the floor. "Your servants know you well enough, Morveth. Do not pretend a shame which you have long outlived! Nay, you shall not touch the accursed thing again this night! Come with me at once," and she laid her hand on his arm, and tried to draw him away. "Take care, Guinevere!" exclaimed the earl, his maudlin state changing to one of sudden fury. "You go too far! Are you master of this house? You take strange liberties with your husband! Stand off! I tell you I will do what I will in my own house--I will not be ruled by a weak woman!" Lady Bryn Afon turned pale as he wrested himself from her grasp, but she quietly placed herself between him and the table towards which he staggered. "I am not afraid of you, Morveth," she said, fixing her eyes steadily upon him. "My will is stronger than yours, and I will force you to obey me. If you resist me," and she drew from her pocket a small silver whistle, "I have but to use this, and Rhiwallon will be at my side in a moment. You will scarce, however, wish me to rouse him from a bed of sickness to my rescue. See, I am going to lock up all these things, and then you will come with me to your room." The wretched earl made a quick motion forward, as if to stop her, as she hastily placed the bottles in a cupboard, and removed the key, but his mood suddenly changed again, and dropping into a chair, he began to sob helplessly. He made no further resistance, however, and allowed his wife to lead him upstairs to his chamber, where he soon sank into a heavy stupor, while she, wrapping a shawl round her, sat by the window, keeping sleepless watch through the summer night. Once only she fell suddenly upon her knees, and, throwing her arms wildly above her head, exclaimed in heart-rending tones; "Oh, Satan, tempt me not! It is impossible, impossible! Yet, my God, my God, it is harder than human heart can bear!" Little Miss Primrose watched in vain next day by the riverside for the earl's tall figure, and the sunny September days rolled away one by one, but he came no more to the boatman's cottage. CHAPTER VII. SHADOWS. "Ah, must your clear eyes see ere long The mist and wreck on sea and land, And that old haunter of all song, The mirage hiding in the sand? And with the dead leaves in the frost Tell you of song and summer lost." --S. M. B. PIATT.