“Another Christmas without you,” she said, a tear dropping from her eyelashes. Last Christmas it was she who had been away on the Riviera enjoying a relief from the wintry greyness of London. They had not thought of upbraiding each other with these absences. But everything was different now. “It will not be a very merry Christmas for me,” he said. “There is only one thing that comforts me,” said Madeline: “that you must clear this subject up--about the negroes, Gervase. Coming to it quite clear-headed, quite impartial--without any prejudice or _parti pris_----” “Well, there is something in that,” he said. “And if the sacrifice of our happiness should contribute to other people’s wellbeing--one could bear it--better----” “Not the sacrifice, darling--only the postponement,--if it were to be sacrificed, not all the Quashees in the world could console me,--say postponed.” “Well, postponed--but one never knows what postponement may bring. A thousand things may happen. Oh, forgive me, Gervase! I am silly and superstitious.” “Have you been dreaming any dreams or seeing any visions?” “No, no--it’s only--silliness,” said Madeline, hiding her tears upon his shoulder. The contradiction to which they were so unaccustomed was very bitter to them. It was so strange, that they should want something very much, and not get it, but only disappointment and separation in its stead. Mr Thursley came in with a certain air of having done well, in the evening. “Well,” he said, “don’t you think I’ve managed famously for you? Gervase has only to give himself a little trouble to make a very good thing of this West Indian business. I’ve reason to believe it is not at all so bad a business as most of those Jamaica affairs have been. If he winds it up judiciously and sells it well, there will be a very pretty balance to bring home; and between you and me, Maddie, it’s all for himself--for him and you. What! crying? and in the name of wonder, child, what are you crying about?” “Do you think it is nothing, papa,” cried Madeline, flashing upon him through the tears that stood like dew on her eyelashes, “to separate us again--to take him away? For three months.” “God bless me!” cried the astonished man. “Is this all you have to say to me, after what I’ve done?” “I don’t know what you may have done. He thought his father had determined on it before you came in. But it is hard to be separated just when we thought we were going to be always together. And to send Gervase away on a wild-goose chase.” “On a wild-goose chase!” he repeated with dismay. “I should have thought you would have been delighted with such an opportunity of doing some good work.” “When all he is allowed to think of, is how he is to get the most money, and make the best bargain!” she cried. Poor Mr Thursley felt very small after this taking down. He thought it would perhaps have been better to leave the young ones to themselves, to do what seemed good in their eyes. CHAPTER V.