Returning to his own apartments Robert found that the lights had been lowered and that Theodora was apparently asleep. He stood looking at her a few minutes, but decided not to awaken her. She would, he thought, want to know all that had been said and he was tired of the subject. His mother's tears had washed all color and vitality out of it. She believed herself to be right and from her point of view he admitted she was. He told himself that Theodora did not comprehend the wonderful complexity of the Scotch character--he must try and teach her. And as for her destroyed, or lost adornments, they could be replaced. Of course money would be, as it were, lost in such replacement, but it would be a good lesson, and lessons of all kinds take money. Thus, by a new road, he had come back to the usual Campbell appreciation of the Campbells, for though he was keenly alive to the individual defects of that large family he was at the same time conscious of their superiority to the rest of the world. In the morning he began to give Theodora the lesson he had himself absorbed. He told her that it was some of their own relatives who had occupied the rooms, and then explained the wonderful strength of the family tie in Scotch families. "I think," he added, "that under the circumstances, mother did the only possible thing." "And the opening of my trunks, Robert dear, and the use of my clothing, is that also a result of the Scotch family tie?" "Yes-s," he answered with easy composure, "they looked on you as one of us and supposed you would gladly loan what they needed. Isabel says they often borrow her brooches and rings and gowns. Moreover, mother informed me, that it is the common custom to open a bride's trunks, and examine her belongings." "A very rude and barbarous custom, I think, Robert, and it makes no excuse for an infringement of manifest courtesy and kindness. And I am sure that every one can forgive an injury, easier than an infringement of their rights." "You must try and look at the matter reasonably, dear Dora." "You mean unreasonably, Robert, but if you do not care, why should I?" Robert made no reply, but went on examining his fingernails, apparently without noticing the look of pained surprise in his wife's eyes, nor yet the far deeper sign of distress--that dumb lip-biting which indicates an intensity of outraged feeling. This was Theodora's first lesson in the complexities of the Scotch character, and it was a dear one. It cost her many illusions, many hopes, and some secret tears. And the gain was doubtful. Nature knows how to profit from every shower of rain, every glint of sunshine, every drop of dew; but which of us ever learn from any past experience, how to prepare a future that will give us what we desire?