"Ah! I thought Bertie had a great deal to do with it. How fond you are of Bertie," and she laid an uncomfortable stress on the name as each time it passed her lips. Robert spoke at last. "Bertie is Mrs. Vavasour's loadstar," he said, quietly. Amy felt this to be unjust; not so would her husband have spoken to her a month ago. "My heart is large enough to hold more than the love for my boy," she replied. "I expect he holds by far the largest share of it," said Frances. Amy said nothing until she met Robert's gaze fixed inquiringly on her face. "My love for my child is a sacred love, and scarcely to be called in question, Miss Strickland," she answered. Frances's eyes flashed; then she laughed and struck her riding-habit with her whip. "Don't look so much in earnest, Mrs. Vavasour. I dare say you have lots of love in your heart for everybody." "Not for everyone," replied Amy, gravely. "Ah! you never fall in love at first sight, then; but when once you love, your love lasts for ever. Is it so?" "I have never asked myself the question." "But perhaps Mr. Vavasour has. What say you, Mr. Vavasour, you who are supposed to know every thought of your wife's heart?" "A woman's heart is too difficult a thing for us poor men to fathom." "Not always. I am going to call Isabella. You can ask your wife while I'm gone." Amy stood close by her husband, yet dared not raise her eyes to his. Would he ask her if he knew every thought of her heart, and if she said "no," sternly demand what she had to conceal? Now, more than ever, she wished she had told him all long ago. She knew the question must come. It came at last. "Amy, is it so? Do I know every thought of your heart?" "You ought to," she replied, tremblingly. "True." He sighed, then paused, as if expecting her to say more, but Amy was silent. "Do you love me better than all others, Amy? better than your boy?" "Nay, what a question. You know I love you, Robert." He strained her passionately to his heart: had he held her there a moment longer, Amy might have told him all, for she felt strangely softened; but Frances' voice sounded; he drew away from her without a word, and was gone. "I will ride to-morrow," thought Amy, "perhaps it will please him;" and Robert did look pleased the next day as she came out on the terrace--where he stood with Mrs. Linchmore,--in her riding habit and hat. "You are going with us?" he cried. "Yes, the day is so pleasant, I could not resist the temptation." Ah, yes! The day! His brow clouded, and he turned away. "I am glad you are coming," said Mrs. Linchmore, "as Frances does not ride." Frances not ride! For a moment Amy felt glad, then sorry. Would they think she had come purposely to prevent a tête-à-tête? "I did not know Miss Strickland was not to be of the party," said Amy, as her husband lifted her to the saddle. "Nor I," he replied. "You are not sorry I am going with you, Robert?" He looked at her in surprise. "Sorry, Amy?"