“Anna, dearest,” said Dick, taking her hands from his shoulder and holding them in his own, while he sought her eyes, “Anna, did I not promise you before we were married, that after I should become your husband I would never touch cards or dice again? Answer me, Anna.” “Yes, Dick, you did, dear.” “And—bad as I was, at my very worst, did you ever know me to break my pledged word?” “No indeed, I never did, dear.” “And do you think I would begin by breaking it to my wife?” he asked, gazing sadly into her eyes. “Oh, Dick, Dick, my darling, I beg your pardon! I do indeed!” she said, throwing her arms around him and kissing him with such an effusion of affection that it must have consoled him for her momentary injustice. “Oh, Dick, forgive me, love!” “All right, Anna,” he said, smiling and returning her caresses with interest. “I cannot blame you for doubting and fearing for me, until time shall prove how steadfastly I shall keep my pledge to you. I only wish it could be otherwise with you, and that for your own peace you could have full faith in me; but I know that this cannot be so, for it must be a part of my punishment for past follies still to inspire doubt of my future conduct.” He spoke gravely and sadly, and the tears rushed to Anna’s eyes as she answered him: “Oh, Dick, darling, not so! I never doubted you before, and, after this, I _cannot_ do so again. It was I who was a sinner, Dick, to doubt you at all, you dear, good, honest——” —“Dog,” added Dick, laughing; “for even an unlucky dog may still be an honest one. Yes, Anna,” he added, after a pause, “I do think you may begin to trust me. We have been married about two years, and in all that time not only have I never touched cards or dice, but I have not even wished to do so. For your own peace of mind, try to trust me, my wife.” “I _do_, Dick! I do! It was only your look that alarmed me; and, as we were all safe at home here, I could not think of anything but your ‘friends’ that could happen to you. And, more than all, when I asked you what was the matter, you answered, ‘nothing,’ which, as I hinted before always means, ‘Nothing could be worse.’” “Well, Anna, it really was ‘nothing,’ in one sense of the word, ‘nothing,’ or not much to us that is.” “What was it, then?” “Well, I suppose I may tell you without the risk of giving you any great pain. Alexander Lyon has gone mad with jealousy.” Anna at first looked startled, and then she burst into a hearty peal of laughter. “I never saw a man out of Bedlam so frantic,” continued Dick. “I said so!” laughed Anna. “Who is he jealous of? You?” “Of the whole world, I think!” “I am very glad to hear it. I hope it will do him good.” “Yes, but he has challenged Prince Ernest of Hohenlinden,” said Dick, solemnly. Anna became very grave. “And if he should not be prevented he will fight him.” “Fight a duel! Dick, do you know what you are saying? Are you in your senses?” “I am. It is Alick who is mad.”