Mr. Drayton showed no feeling but that of jealousy in connection with it; but Margaret did not mind. It slept in her room, and she devoted herself to it. Up to this time Mr. Drayton had never again given her cause for fearing him. Even the experienced servant pronounced him as well as any one, and he resumed his usual occupations. One night Margaret was upstairs with her child--late. There had been a thunder-storm, and the thunder was still growling in the distance. Rain came on, and as Margaret sat by her little one she felt only natural pity for any wayfarers on such a stormy night. How it poured, and how dark the night was! She closed the shutters for fear of the baby's slumbers being disturbed by the loud splashing of the rain upon a lower roof of an outhouse, and was taking up her book again, when her husband walked into the room, looking perfectly wild, a paper in his hand. With great difficulty she got him to go downstairs with her, calling her nurse to go to the child. Cautious, and seeing how frightfully excited he was, she sat down near the bell, and tried to speak to him quietly. But she was frightened when she saw that the paper he held was the record of her opinion of his character, written in Germany--that she had meant to destroy, and had long forgotten. "So, madam," her husband said furiously, "this is your candid opinion of me." He spoke in a tone of concentrated rage. "It was written long ago," faltered Margaret. "Oh, it was written long ago. Well, now I know your opinion of me I shall alter my conduct towards you--you sneaking...." He came towards her. Margaret, frightened, rang the bell, and the sound was to her surprise repeated outside. There was a commotion in the hall. Before she could speak Grace, wet, wearied, but with all her accustomed nonchalance, stepped into the room. Before the sisters could clasp each other Mr. Drayton rushed between them furious. The sight of Grace, whom he hated, drove him to frenzy, and the servant entreated her to go, as he did his utmost to restrain him. "Yes, you had better go, darling," sobbed Margaret. "But you will not remain here, you will come too," pleaded Grace, panting. "Oh, Grace, my child! I cannot leave it--I cannot risk moving it." She wrote the doctor's address in pencil, and saw her sister go, resolved that she would go and see her the next morning. "The doctor will help you, Grace, and if you get some nice rooms I will manage for you." She saw the frail figure in the cab, and, struck by the forlornness of her departure, she sent a servant with her. Then she went up stairs, and carefully locking the door tried to face this new and terrible complication. What was she to do? For the first time now she was really frightened. Her husband's expression had been so full of malice. How could she go on living in this way?