That frequent saying, "the devil was sick," was alluded to a few pages back. It might again be quoted. Lady Adela, when she thought the trouble had not passed and her heart was softened, had mentally rehearsed once more a little scene of tenderness, to be enacted when she next met her husband. She met him now; and she turned back to the looking-glass without speaking a word. She now knew that the danger was over; over for good. Charley was discharged, scathless; her own name had been kept silent and sacred--and there was an end of it. She turned back to the glass, after looking round to see who it was that had come in, saying not a word. Possibly she anticipated a lecture, and deemed it the wisest plan to keep silent--who knew? Not Mr. Grubb. She gave him neither word nor smile, neither tear nor kiss. He walked across the room, and stood at the window nearest the dressing-table, turning to face her. Could she not have said good-morning?--could she not have asked him how he had been these three days, and what the news was from Blackheath? She appeared to be too much occupied with her lovely hair. "I must request you to give me your attention for a few minutes, Lady Adela." There was something in the proud, distant tone, in the formality of the address, that caused her to glance at him quickly. She did not like his face. It was stern, impassive, as she had never before seen it. "Yes," she answered, quite timidly. In the same cold tone, with the same unbending countenance, Mr. Grubb in a few concise words informed her of the resolution he had taken. He could never allow her to inhabit the same house with himself again; her father and mother would receive her back in her maiden home. The arrangements connected with this step had been settled between himself and Lord Acorn: and he should be glad if she made it convenient to leave Grosvenor Square that day. Intense astonishment, gradually giving place to dismay, kept her silent. The comb dropped from her hand. "Anything but this," beat the refrain in her heart; "anything but this." For Lady Adela, so alive to the good opinion of the world, would almost rather have preferred death than that she should be publicly put away by her husband. "You have no right to do this," she stammered, her face ashy pale. "No right! After what has passed? Ask your father whether I possess the right, or not," he added, his voice stern with indignation. "But for my clemency, you might have taken the place from which Charles Cleveland has been released." "Is that the reason?" she asked. "It has afforded the justification for the step. Following on the course of treatment you have dealt out to me for years----" "I have been very wrong," she interrupted. "I meant to have told you so. I have not behaved as--as--I ought to behave for a long while; I acknowledge it. Won't you forgive me?" "No," he answered--and his voice had no relenting in it.