“How do you like my consoler, as Marian calls it?” said he. “Do you mean the organ?” “Yes.” “I wasn’t listening to you.” “You should have: I played the great fugue in A minor expressly for your entertainment: you used to work at Liszt’s transcription of it. The organ is only occasionally my consoler. For the most part I am driven to it by habit and a certain itching in my fingers. Marian is my real consoler.” “So she has just been telling me,” said Elinor. Conolly’s surprise escaped him for just a moment in a quick glance at Marian. She colored, and looked reproachfully at her cousin, who added, “I am sure you must be a nuisance to the neighbors.” “Probably,” said Conolly. “I do not think you should play so much on Sunday,” said Marian. “I know. [Marian winced.] Well, if the neighbors will either melt down the church bells they jangle so horribly within fifteen yards or so of my unfortunate ears, or else hang them up two hundred feet high in a beautiful tower where they would sound angelic, as they do at Utrecht, then perhaps I will stop the organ to listen to them. Until then, I will take the liberty of celebrating the day of rest with such devices as the religious folk cannot forbid me.” “Pray do not begin to talk about religion, Ned.” “My way of thinking is too robust for Marian, Miss McQuinch. I admit that it does not, at first sight, seem pretty or sentimental. But I do not know how even Marian can prefer the church bells to Bach.” “What do you mean by ‘_even_ Marian’?” said Elinor, sharply. “I should have said, ‘Marian, who is tolerant and kind to everybody and everything.’ I hope you have forgiven me for carrying her off from you, Miss McQuinch. You are adopting an ominous tone toward me. I fear she has been telling you of our quarrels, and my many domestic shortcomings.” “No,” said Elinor. “As far as I can judge from her account, you are a monotonously amiable husband.” “Indeed! Hm! Would you like your coffee out here?” “Yes.” “Do not stir, Marian: I will ring for it.” When he was gone, Marian said “Nelly: for Heaven’s sake say nothing that could make the slightest coldness between Ned and me. I am clinging to him with all my heart and soul; and you must help me. Those sharp things that you say to him stab me cruelly; and he is clever enough to guess everything I have said to you from them.” “If I cannot keep myself from making mischief, I shall go away,” said Elinor. “Dont suppose I am in a huff: I am quite serious. I have an unlucky tongue; and my disposition is such that when I see that a jug is cracked, I feel more inclined to smash and have done with it than to mend it and handle it tenderly ever after. However, I hope your marriage is not a cracked jug yet.” CHAPTER XIII