"Don't ask. I feel too ill to fret over it just now. I'd give it up to-morrow but for Travice." Certain words all but escaped Peter Arkell's lips, but they were suppressed again. He wondered--he had wondered long--_why_ William Arkell continued to live at an expensive rate. That it was his wife's doings, not his, Peter knew; but he could not help thinking that, had he been a firm, clever man, as William was, he should not have yielded to her. He met her in the hall as he went out. She wore a rich, trailing silk, and bracelets of gold. Peter stopped to shake hands with her; but she was never too civil to him, or to his daughter Lucy. In point of fact, Lucy had for some time haunted Mrs. Arkell's dreams in a very unpleasant manner, entailing a frequent nightmare, hideous to contemplate. "What did Peter Arkell want here?" she asked of her husband, before she was well in the room; and her tone was by no means a gracious one. "Not much," carelessly answered Mr. Arkell, who had drawn over the fire in another fit of shivering. She took her seat in the chair Peter had vacated, and slightly lifted her rich dress, lest the scorching fire should mar its beauty. "I suppose he came to borrow money," she said, no pleasant look upon her countenance. "On the contrary, he came to pay me some." "To pay you some! What for?" "To repay me some, I should have said. I paid something for him during his absence--ten pounds--and he has now returned it." For one single moment she felt inclined to doubt the words, and to say so. The next, she remembered how simply truthful was her husband. "I want Travice," she said, presently. "I sent to the manufactory for him, but he was out. Will he be long, do you know?" "I dare say not. Peter told me he was at the railway station. He went, I suppose, to meet them." Mrs. Arkell lifted her head with a sort of start. "Did you know he had gone?" she asked, sharply. "I knew nothing at all of it. What are you so cross about?" Mrs. Arkell bit her lips--her habit when put out. "I have always objected to Travice's excessive intimacy with the Peter Arkells," she slowly said. "You know I have. But I might just as well have objected to the wind's blowing, for all the effect it has had. I hope it will not prove that I had cause." "Cause! What cause? What do you mean, Charlotte?" "Well, I think they are a mean, deceitful set. I think they are scheming to entrap Travice into an engagement with Lucy Arkell." Ill as Mr. Arkell felt, he yet burst into a laugh. The notion of Peter's scheming to entrap anyone, or anything, was so ludicrous: simple, single-minded Peter, who had probably never given a thought to Lucy's marrying at all since she was in existence! and his wife was utterly above meanness of any sort--the very soul of openness and honour. "Where did you pick up that notion?" he asked, when his laugh was over.