“Why, I thought I would take you home--to England, I mean--by sea, before the winter gales begin, and that we would stay at Llandiarmid for a bit. I meant to get a low pony-carriage to drive you about in, and I thought we would spend whole days in the woods as long as it was warm enough. You don’t know what the Llandiarmid woods are in autumn, Nell--how black the yew-trees look among the oaks and beeches on the river-cliff, and how pretty the golden birches are against the Scotch firs. And I thought we would take long drives, and stop at the farmhouses, and the tenants’ wives would come out to be introduced to you, and tell you what a wretch of a husband you had got hold of, and ask if you wouldn’t have a sup of new milk to bring some colour into your cheeks. And my mother would pet you, of course, and get so fond of you that I should have to forbid your going into the village with her, lest I should see nothing of you myself. And then perhaps you might be well enough about the end of November to come up to Southumberland with me, if the General Election was on then--not to canvass, of course, but just to go about with me and attract votes by looking so miserably pale, as if I ill-treated you, you know. That’s just what I thought, you see.” “And now?” asked Helene breathlessly, smiling and flushing. “Oh, now it’s unnecessary, isn’t it?” “Couldn’t you pretend it was necessary, Nym?” “Oh, you like the programme, do you? Then we will pretend it’s necessary, Nell. Every evening I shall ask you, ‘Are you glad yet that you’re alive?’ and you will be hard-hearted, and say, ‘Not yet.’” “No, I shan’t,” said Helene, growing pink again. “I am glad because you are--because you don’t repent. You don’t, do you?” “Repent what? Nell, don’t be a baby.” “Oh, I have made you angry!--but you know what I mean. You don’t mind having married me instead of Félicia, do you? I just want to hear you say it--only that.” “I’m not angry, but I should be if you were not such a child. Have I deserved this, Nell? I can’t say that I have never thought of Félicia since I married you, but I can say that I never think of her without being thankful I didn’t marry her. And you have been treasuring up that old piece of foolishness against me all this time!” “I haven’t! I haven’t! It came over me suddenly that I wanted to hear you say it, though I knew it quite well. And I had a reason, Nym. You don’t mind my not telling you what it is, do you? You will know very soon. I want to ask Aunt Ernestine something first.” “Shall I ask her to come and see you?” “Oh, please do. And you are not really angry, Nym?” “No, I am not. But it would serve you right if I said I was, you little mischief-maker!” But Helene’s blissful smile did not look as though the epithet troubled her. “Well, Lenchen darling?” asked the Queen as she came in; “what is it you want me to do?”