"Confinement in a sick-room does not agree with you, I fear," said she, with interest. "We must not let you fall ill, too. Will you not delegate one of us to represent you this forenoon, while you take a ride?" "Constant attendance is unnecessary," she replied. "Hereafter, I shall not stay in doors as I have been doing. I thank you for your offer, however. If I can avail myself of it, I will do so." "Why did he not come down to breakfast?" asked Josephine, ironically. "He cannot leave his bed;" was the calm reply. "Nor turn himself in it, I believe, madam?" "You are right." "It must cost you a pang to surrender to another the privilege of allaying his pains, and paying those endearing little attentions, to which affection imparts such sweetness. How can you think of it?" "I do not consider my health unimportant." "Not in comparison with his?" continued Josephine, provokingly. "The duty is not rendered less imperative by any comparison." "The pursuit of pleasure and ease is included in this prudent care of yourself, I presume, madam?" "In that, as in everything else, I shall consult my own inclinations." "I did not know that a woman had a will of her own after she married," retorted Josephine. "I am not conscious of having lost my volition or free agency." "And acting upon this unbiassed volition, you will occupy your box at the theatre to-night. I saw a ticket upon the table in the parlor." "I shall be there; but there will be room for you, and whatever friend you honor by accompanying." "And this is conjugal devotion!" the suppressed wrath boiling over,--"After cajoling a feeble old man into marrying you, you desert him upon a bed of languishing, where he is laid by your follies, to flirt with your train of gallants in the most public place in the city!" "If you have more remarks of like import to make, I will hear them in your father's presence, Miss Read," answered the unruffled step-mother. "Miss Ida, please excuse my withdrawing before you have finished your breakfast." Josephine had emphatically picked this quarrel. She had received no provocation, and combined with this disadvantage, that of loss of temper. Chafing with anxiety to commence the warfare she had declared, she was too eager to wait for a pretext; and had plunged into a rash conflict, before estimating the strength of the enemy's forces. Ida said nothing, until she was ready to leave the room. She deemed it her duty to speak. "Josephine," said she, mildly, "it is not my place to dictate to you; but as a well-wisher, I warn you not to carry this further. Constant dissension will be the only result. She is inclined to live peaceably with you; and she will be a dangerous, a powerful enemy."