A fortnight later Sutton was lying in the drawing-room, with no other malady than excessive weakness, and with no other occupation than to recruit his shattered powers. Maud was busied with the composition of some appetising beverage, which was, the doctor said, the only kind of medicine of which he now stood in need, and which could, in Maud's and her husband's opinion, be properly concocted and administered by no hand but hers. Then the invalid's pillows needed skilful arrangement, for he was still at the stage when mere lying still is an exertion which seems to tax every limb and muscle in the aching frame. Maud found an indescribable relief and pleasure in waiting on her husband, and proved herself a nature-taught adept in the kindly art of nursing. Every act, though her husband knew it not, had, to Maud's aching conscience, a sort of penitential devotion about it, and said a hundred things of love and sorrow which as yet found no utterance in spoken words. 'What a model wife!' said Sutton, as he lay watching her movements, in grateful admiration at her skill and care on his behalf. 'Ah! but,' said Maud, thankful for the opportunity of the confession she was longing to make, 'I am not a model wife at all, but just everything that a model ought not to be.' 'Then,' said Jem gallantly, 'I am for you, and not for the model, whoever drew it.' 'Jem,' she said, with sudden seriousness, 'I want to tell you something, and be forgiven. I meant to do so before, but you have been too poorly. I am afraid it will hurt you. I have been going on very stupidly at Elysium, and very wrongly, and doing everything that you would most have disliked, and that I dislike now--oh! how bitterly!' Sutton, to Maud's great relief, did not seem in the least surprised or inclined to be serious about the matter. He took her hand and held it with the kindest caressing manner. 'I have no doubt,' he said, 'that Mrs. Vereker did all she could to get you into a scrape. It was a shame of me to let you go to her.' 'No,' said Maud, 'it was not her fault at all. The truth is, I have been flirting with--some one.' 'Some one,' said Sutton, 'has been trying to flirt with you, you mean, and no wonder. Some one showed his good taste at any rate.' 'Yes, but,' said the penitent, 'I flirted with him. I think I must have been crazy.' 'You risked your life, dear, to come and be with me. Why look further back than that? I cannot.' 'But,' said Maud, her cheeks burning scarlet at the awful confession which conscience compelled her to make, 'that is not all: _I gave him a kiss_.' 'Then,' said her husband, 'you gave him a great deal more than he deserved, whoever he was. Well, now, give me one, and let us say no more about it.'