“Alice,” he repeated, “you promised me you would not cry any more.” “Yes, but you promised”--gasp--“you would not make me cry”--gasp. “I know you think me no better than a baby, but I can’t help it--I can’t, indeed.” More very bitter tears. “Well,” said he, in despair, “if I come here for a few days at Christmas, will you be satisfied?” “Yes,” she faintly whispered. “Then dry your eyes; don’t let me see another tear. You have had your own way altogether, have you not?--tyrant as I am!” “Yes,” she replied, with a sickly smile. She looked so pale, dishevelled, and wan, that he felt absolutely guilty as he gazed at her forlorn-looking face. Silently and rapidly they pursued the woodland path, where barely two might walk abreast. Above them the trees had laid their heads together, and combined in league to keep out the sun. A stillness weighed on the surrounding woods; the wind had died away; the birds were silent. Not more silent than the bronzed young soldier and the pale agitated girl, who walked together, side by side. Alice was in hopes of reaching her room unseen. But no such good fortune was in store for her. On the stairs she came face-to-face with Geoffrey, who, calmly surveying her tear-stained cheeks, gave a long and eloquent whistle, and chanted, as he passed downstairs: “But, children, you should never let Your angry passions rise, Your little hands were never made To tear each other’s eyes.” On entering the library, he found Reginald making lame excuses for Alice’s non-appearance to Helen, who was pouring out tea. He boldly walked over to him and whispered right into his ear: “You’ve been bullying her, I see.” Reginald’s indignant negative was completely thrown away on Geoffrey, who had already seated himself at the tea-table, under the shelter of Helen’s protection. So ended this disastrous walk. * * * * * Alice’s reflections as she stood at her window in the gloaming were not of a very rose-coloured hue. All that she most valued in this world--her husband’s love--had slipped from her grasp. The efforts she made to be reconciled were utterly in vain; a cool, determined indifference met and repulsed all her advances; advances which she afterwards blushed to remember, and propitiated her wounded pride by increased haughtiness and reserve.