Coverdale Park was reached without adventure, and appeared as cool, and calm, and happy as the country usually does to the eyes of fashion-wearied Londoners; and Harry, unaffectedly delighted to escape from the uncongenial atmosphere of a crowded city to his home,--which he loved with his whole heart,--forgot, in the pleasure he experienced, the amount of Alice’s misdemeanours, and was only anxious to be reconciled with her, and to assure her of his perfect and entire forgiveness. But since the previous evening a change--for which he could not account, and which began to render him very uneasy--had come over Alice, she was no longer irritable and petulant at one moment, yet amused and light-hearted at the next, but a settled gloom hung o’er her brow, which indicated sorrow rather than anger; and although she had never allowed him to surprise her in tears, her eyes bore unmistakeable traces of weeping. Their _tête-à-tête_ dinner passed off heavily enough: as they sat moodily over their dessert, Harry observed, “The evening is most lovely--come out and take a stroll.” He spoke kindly, almost tenderly, and as Alice looked up to reply to him, her eyes filled with tears; hastily checking them before they could be observed, she agreed. Her husband carefully placed a shawl over her shoulders, brought from the hall her garden bonnet, and, drawing her arm within his own, they walked on for some distance in silence. At length Harry observed, “Alice, dear, you seem downcast and unhappy--why is this? surely you cannot regret that hot, miserable, artificial London? you must be glad to get back to our own dear, quiet home again?” “I do not in the least regret London,” was the reply; “on the contrary, I am glad to be once more in the country again.” “Then why this gloomy manner?” urged Coverdale; “I may have been a little annoyed with you at times lately, but I am quite prepared to believe it was mere thoughtlessness on your part; in fact, I never considered it anything else. I feel sure when you come to reflect seriously on the matter, you will yourself see that your conduct was a little injudicious; and, in that case, believe me the affair is from this moment forgotten and forgiven.” Harry paused for a reply, but for several moments none was forthcoming; at last, his patience being exhausted, he inquired in a tone of surprise, “Alice, did you hear what I was saying?” “I beg your pardon,” rejoined Alice, starting, “I was _not_ attending properly at that moment; you were blaming me for something, were you not? I am very sorry--what was it?”