"Oh, Roma, you must have asked him to come, your letter must have brought him," exclaimed Beauchamp's wife in great distress. "I know you meant it well, dear Roma, but you should not have done it. I don't want to see him just yet. I have been trying to make up my mind to do what I suppose must be right--to offer to go back to him, and do my duty as his wife. But you don't know how difficult it will be. Oh, so difficult! He will never in the least understand the feelings that made me so miserable; he will think it was all bad temper; or low common jealousy of his having ever cared for _you_; oh, I see it all so plainly! Of course I will ask him to forgive me--ah, how gladly I would do so if I thought he could understand what he really has to forgive--it is not that I shrink from. But I see that during the rest of our life together I shall stand at such a hopeless disadvantage: he will not be able to believe in my real wish and determination to do my best; it is my own fault, I have brought it on myself, but that does not make it less bitter. This that I have done--this leaving him and my home, will be constantly rising up in judgment against me in his mind--it will never seem to him that anything was wanting on _his_ side. I do mean to try, Roma, I do indeed, but all the spring has gone out of everything. Oh, how lonely it will be!" Roma let her finish speaking without interrupting her. Then she said gently--"I think you see things at their very worst, Eugenia. I think there are feelings and motives in Beauchamp which will make your life easier than you now imagine. But I don't think my saying so will do much good. About his coming, however, I must explain that it was entirely his own doing. My letter did not bring him. I did not say a word in it but what I told you. And even if I had not written, Beauchamp would have been here by now, for your brother-in-law had sent him your address." "_He_ need not have interfered," said Eugenia, haughtily. Roma smiled. "He meant it for the best, I have no doubt," she said. "You are sore and uneasy just now, Eugenia, and no wonder, but after awhile you will see things more brightly, I feel sure. But now, what about your seeing Beauchamp? He will be calling this evening to ask; he said he would. Would you rather wait till to-morrow morning?" "I don't know," said Eugenia, irresolutely. Then, as a new thought struck her, "Have you seen him then, Roma?" she asked. "Yes," answered Miss Eyrecourt. "I have seen him, and had a very long talk with him--the longest talk, I think, I ever had with any gentleman! But I don't think his wife will be jealous," she added, with a bright smile, which, in spite of herself, extracted a faint, shadowy reflection of itself from Eugenia. Just then there came a ring at the bell. "There he is," said Roma; "well, Eugenia?" "I will see him now," said Eugenia, suddenly. "It is better--my putting it off might only irritate him more."