"He's not exactly angry, now. He has been very kind. He has behaved beautifully. But he said he must go away for a time, and when he came back he would not refer to--to the subject of our quarrel again." "Well, that's all right then. There is no cause for being unhappy. It's nothing his going away for a week or two." "He says six weeks. Six long, dreadful weeks!" "Even _six_ weeks--it's nothing. After, you'll both be much happier, I'm sure," said Bertha consolingly. "Sometimes there is a sort of strain and a change is needed. It will be all right." "But, Mrs. Kellynch, you don't know--you don't understand. I have always been so terribly, madly jealous. I have worried him into it. You see--I can't help it, I love him so much! I do love him. You can't imagine what it is!" "Indeed I can!" cried Bertha. "I care _quite_ as much for Percy. You can't think how much." "Really and truly? But that's so different, because _he_ cares quite as much for you." "Indeed, I hope so," said Bertha seriously. "Yes. But Nigel doesn't--he's kind, but I don't think he cares much about me. What shall I do?" Bertha paused, deeply sorry. Then she said: "Nonsense! Of course he does, but you--if you'll excuse my saying so--you seem to worry him, to bother him with imaginary grievances, with unjust suspicious. What man will bear that?" "Then will you tell me what to do?" she asked, like a child. "First, don't beg him to come back. Write kindly, unselfishly, cheerfully." "Cheerfully! Oh, I can't." "Yes; you must if you want it to be all right. What man wants to be deluged with tears and complaints? Dear Mrs. Hillier, I'm speaking as a genuine friend. I'm speaking frankly. I'm advising you as I would my own sister. Write to him cheerily, and take an interest in his doings, but not _too_ great. Show less curiosity. Above all, no jealousy, no suspicions. It's the worst thing in the world." "Is it? Go on, dear Mrs. Kellynch. Tell me more." "Talk of the children--show interest in them--make him proud of them. There you have an advantage no other woman has. You're the mother of his children." "Does he care for that?" "Of course he does--and he will more, if you do. Show an interest and a pride in it, and you will be what no one else can be to him." Mary thought, and seemed to see it. "Go on, go on!" she said, putting out her hand. "Dear Mrs. Hillier, I have envied you so for that! All these years, I've never had that great happiness. At last"--she paused--"I'll tell you, if you care to know--at last, after ten years, I am going to have my wish." "Really! And you are pleased?" "I'm divinely happy, delighted!" "Then I'm very glad for you, Mrs. Kellynch. But can't you imagine--you're so pretty and charming and good-tempered and clever. I'm none of all these things. I'm not pretty, and I'm very bad-tempered and terribly jealous by nature and not clever."