“Alice, come here with your needle.” Alice, entering the library, found that she had to operate on her husband this time, which was more than either of them had bargained for; but there was no help for it, with Captain Vaughan and Geoffrey standing by. She had scarcely commenced her task ere they left the room and went out to the dog-cart, leaving her alone with Reginald. She ventured to steal a glance at him, he stood still as a statue, without so much as the flickering of an eyelash, whilst her fingers trembled a good deal, and her heart beat so loudly she was afraid he could hear it. As he had not removed his coat they were brought into uncommonly close contact, and the top of her head was dangerously near to his moustache. Very quickly and silently she stitched, without again raising her eyes. Through his open coat she perceived his scarlet silk racing-jacket and faultless breeches and boots. “What are you looking so serious about?” he suddenly asked. “Why are you so pale? There is no occasion to keep up appearances; we are alone. Pray don’t feign anxiety about me--that you really don’t feel; you know very well you don’t care a straw whether I break my neck or not.” He was in a merciless humour; many sleepless hours had he brooded on his wrongs, and wrath and contempt were uppermost. Alice made no reply, but having sewn on the button, twisted the thread off with a sharp snap. “Well, good-bye,” he said, holding out a dogskin-covered hand and looking at her keenly. “Don’t overact the part. At present you are superb. Any bystander now would be fool enough to think----that you cared for me. You and I know better than _that_, don’t we?” he added, with a curious smile, as he opened his cigar-case and carefully selected a cheroot. “Rex, are you coming?” shouted Geoffrey. In another moment he had taken his seat in the dog-cart, the pawing, fiery chestnut had “got his head,” and the trio were bowling down the avenue at a liberal ten miles an hour. Alice stood in the window for fully twenty minutes; her lips trembled, her bosom heaved. “How dared he! How dared he!” she whispered, as the blood mounted to her pale face, and her whole frame quivered with anger at his taunts. But her indignation, as was usually the case, quickly died away--it gave place to “apprehension’s sudden glow.” “Supposing he was brought home badly hurt--or dead? Supposing that those dark eyes, that had just now looked at her so scornfully, were closed for ever ere nightfall?” The very idea was more than she could bear. She would busy herself all day, and not give herself time to think. Drying her eyes, she ran upstairs, and helped Helen and Mary to put the finishing touches to their toilettes; and pressed on Mary a perfect parasol, arranged Helen’s bonnet and veil satisfactorily, and saw them off from the hall-door steps with many smiles and good wishes.