Calm and tranquil were the months that followed--though my husband's brow was always clouded when letters arrived bearing the London post-mark; and when I asked who his correspondent was, he answered, "Lord Charles;" but never communicated to me the contents of these letters. In walking, riding, receiving and paying visits, passed the time till September, when my husband had an invitation to spend a few days in Norfolk, on a shooting excursion; and when he returned he found me confined to my sofa with indisposition. Never had woman a tenderer nurse than he proved himself during the three succeeding months: at the end of that time I was quite recovered; and as he had business in London, he declared his intention of going thither for some days, as he could not bear, he said, to leave me some few months later, and when a time was approaching so dear to his wishes and expectations. To London therefore he went, and left me to combat and indulge alternately the fears of a jealous and the confidence of a tender wife. His letters became a study to me. I tried to find out by his expressions in what state of mind he wrote. Sometimes I fancied them hurried, and expressive of a mind not at ease with itself; then in another passage I read the unembarrassed eloquence of faithful and confiding love. During his absence my mother found me a bad companion: I was for ever falling into reverie, and a less penetrating eye than hers would have discovered that my symptoms were those of mental uneasiness. At length he returned, and he gazed on my faded cheek and evidently anxious countenance with such tender concern, that my care-worn brow instantly resumed its wonted cheerfulness; and when my mother came to welcome him, she was surprised at the alteration in my looks. "Foolish child!" said she in a faltering voice, when Pendarves left the room, "Foolish child! to depend thus for happiness, nay health and life itself perhaps, on one of frail and human mould! I see how it is with you: you were ill and anxious yesterday, but he is come, and you need no other physician." "Did you see much of Lord Charles?" said I the next day, looking earnestly for my needle while I spoke, as I was conscious that my countenance was not tranquil. "No--yes--on the whole I did. But why do you ask? I believe he is no favourite of yours." "Certainly not." "But I hope, Helen, you are not so _very_ a wife as to wish me to give up an old friend merely because he does not please you?" "No: I am not so unreasonable, even though I could give substantial reasons for my dislike."