"Oh, yes, she said her house was called French Cross on account of the cross her Catholic ancestor put up there, and she showed me the picture of the old chief Kanawita, and some day she is going to let me see the Indian relics she has stored in her attic." "She has indeed taken you into favour," said her husband, in a tone of gratification. "What does it matter?" said Derrice, coldly. "I shall probably soon be leaving here," and she lowered her eyes, for a sudden mist of tears made her husband's figure a blur, except for the splash of light on the glasses of his spectacles. "You do not feel yourself growing more contented?" he asked. "Contented, no," she cried, stretching out her arms; "I am homesick,--homesick for my father. Oh, I wish he would come. I shall beg him to do so." "My poor child," said Justin, softly, "what can I do for you?" "You cannot do anything," she said, vehemently. "You should not have married me--" and she dashed away the tears from her eyes in order to see his shocked face. But he was not shocked. He seemed rather to be thoughtfully following up the ramifications of some problem connected with her statement. "Derrice," he said, abruptly rising and putting a hand on her shoulder, "you are nervous, I should not allow you to talk. Good night, my dear child." "Good night," she said, twitching her smooth, sloping shoulder away from his hand, but without making any further effort to leave him. His calm features became suffused with compassion. "Do you know that I came home to-day with a carriage to give my dear dolly a drive?" "No; did you?" and her face brightened. "Yes, and I found her absent." Derrice breathed a gentle, "She could not help it. If she had known--" "And all the evening," Justin continued, "the house has been so lonely." "Has it?" she said, delightedly. "And my foolish little girl comes home from a visit to a fine house where apparently nothing but peace and happiness reign--" "Yes, it is a charming place," and she sighed. "And where she saw a good-looking man ostensibly making love to an interesting young lady--" "Yes, he was, I am sure of it." "And she is discontented because her own husband is so very commonplace--" "Oh, no, no--" "And this other man is so superlatively beautiful, and has such entrancing hair and such melting eyes," said Justin, sarcastically, "and also having been a former friend of the discontented doll, she suffers from the pangs of jealousy." "She does not," said Derrice, decidedly. "Tell me how much you knew of Bernal Huntington in former days?" said Justin. "I have not had a chance to ask you before. Come, sit on my knee, dolly, and tell me about it." Derrice shrugged her shoulders, then shook her head so vehemently that her whole mass of light hair came tumbling about her shoulders. "I never flirted with him, Justin." "I should hope not. You were too young. Where did you meet him?"