“He said nothing about you nor _your_ reformation,--did he?” “Not a word.” “How much will he make it if we separate?” “He did not say. Indeed, he seemed to make our living together the condition of aiding us.” “And if he knew of anything harder or harsher he 'd have added it. Why, he has gone about the world these dozen years back telling every one what a brute and blackguard you had for a husband; that, short of murder, I had gone through every crime towards you. Where was it I beat you with a hunting-whip?” “At Rangoon,” said she, calmly. “And where did I turn you into the streets at midnight?” “At Winchester.” “Exactly; these were the very lies--the infernal lies--he has been circulating for years; and now he says, 'If you have not yet found out how suited you are to each other, how admirably your tastes and dispositions agree, it's quite time you should do so. Go back and live together, and if one of you does not poison the other, I 'll give you a small annuity.'” “Five hundred a year is very liberal,” said she, coldly. “I could manage on it for myself alone, but it 's meant to support a family. It 's beggary, neither more nor less.” “We have no claim upon him.” “No claim! What! no claim on your godfather, your guardian, not to say the impassioned and devoted admirer who followed you over India just to look at you, and spent a little fortune in getting portraits of you! Why, the man must be a downright impostor if he does not put half his fortune at your feet!” “I ought to tell you that he annexed certain conditions to any help he tendered us. 'They were matters,' he said, 'could best be treated between you and himself; that I did not, nor need not, know any of them.'” “I know what he alluded to.” “Last of all, he said you must give him your answer promptly, for he would not be long in this country.” “As to that, time is fully as pressing to me as to him. The only question is, Can we make no better terms with him?” “You mean more money?”. “Of course I mean more money. Could you make him say one thousand, or at least eight hundred, instead of five?” “It would not be a pleasant mission,” said she, with a bitter smile. “I suppose not; a ruined man's wife need not look for many 'pleasant missions,' as you call them. This same one of to-day was not over-gratifying.” “Less even than you are aware,” said she, slowly. “Oh, I can very well imagine the tone and manner of the old fellow; how much of rebuke and severity he could throw into his voice; and how minutely and painstakingly he would dwell upon all that could humiliate you.” “No; you are quite wrong. There was not a word of reproach, not a syllable of blame; his manner was full of gentle and pitying kindness, and when he tried to comfort and cheer me, it was like the affection of a father.” “Where, then, was this great trial and suffering of which you have just said I could take no full measure?”