‘D--n his impudence!’ exclaimed Hindes, angrily; ‘that’s what he was sneaking round here for, was it? I’ll teach him to lay siege to me in my own house. The next time he shows his face here, I’ll kick him out, and Arthur into the bargain. But it’s all your fault,’ he continued, turning round upon her. ‘If you didn’t go about with that long face of yours, people wouldn’t be trying to find out what was the matter with me. Sending the children away from home, too; why, that in itself is enough to raise any one’s suspicion--you, who always advocated home education, especially for girls. It is abominable--infamous--that a man cannot have any dependence even on his wife!’ The injustice of this attack, coming so immediately upon her kindness to him, stirred all the resentment of which she was capable in Hannah’s breast. ‘You are unjust to me,’ she cried, ‘most unjust! What other woman would have done for you what I have done? What other woman would have stayed by your side, after she knew what _I_ know? I sent the girls away because I felt it was impossible they should be brought up in the same house with you, and the sequel has proved I was right. If any suspicions have been aroused, it is by your own conduct. The fatal habit you have contracted is as bad as that of drinking. It deprives a man of all self-respect--all forethought--all control over himself, or his temper. The scenes which took place in the theatre, and here, last night, are horrible to me and degrading to yourself. I have offered to exile myself with you in order to help you fight against the demon that possesses you, and you have refused. I can do no more. Henceforward, you must go your own way, without aid from me! I can only wait and watch for the end.’ She turned from him indignantly as she concluded, and Henry Hindes felt for the first time as if he were indeed deserted by God and man. The idea rendered him frantic. He dashed out of the room and stumbled upstairs. At the top he met little Wally coming to bid papa and mamma good-night, carefully feeling his way down the broad stairs by holding on tight to the banisters. Master Wally was, as his nurse said, ‘quite a man.’ He highly objected to being led, or held by the hand. ‘Let Wally go, all by his self,’ he would say, and so, clad in his white frock and blue ribbons, he was laboriously making his way downwards, whilst his nurse followed, smiling proudly at his independence. Just as he had commenced to descend the last flight, he encountered his father, mad with rage and fear and morphia. He did not even seem to see the little figure he so dearly loved, as he stumbled upstairs, and half fell, half brushed rudely against it. The baby lost his slight hold of the railings at once, and fell to the very bottom, where he lay motionless.