And all these months did she ever question, ever ask herself, while she watched me struggling day after day with the lust for power, if the thing that I sought to give her would in the end turn to Dead Sea fruit at her lips? Question she may have done in her heart, but no hint of it ever reached me--no complaint of her marriage ever disturbed the outward serenity in which we lived. Yet, deep in myself, I heard always a still small voice, which told me that she demanded something far subtler and finer than I had given--something that belonged inherently to the nature of George Bolingbroke rather than to mine. Even now, though she loved me and not George, it was George who was always free, who was always amiable, who was always just ready and just waiting to be called. On another day, a month or two later, he came in again with his blossom of sweet alyssum, and again her eyes grew shining and grateful, while the old bruise throbbed quickly to life in my heart. "Is it all right still?" she asked, and he answered, "All right," with his rare smile, which lent a singular charm to his softened features. Then he glanced across at me and made, I realised, an effort to be friendly. "You ought to get a horse, Ben," he remarked, "it would keep you from getting glum. If you'd hunted with us yesterday, you would have seen Bonny Page take a gate like a bird." "I tried to follow," said Sally, "but Prince Charlie refused." "You mean I wouldn't let go your bridle," returned George, in a half-playful, half-serious tone. The bruise throbbed again. Here, also, I was shut out--I who had carried potatoes to George's door while he was off learning to follow the hounds. His immaculate, yet careless, dress; the perfection of his manner, which seemed to make him a part of the surroundings in which he stood; the very smoothness and slenderness of the hand that rested on Sally's chair--all these produced in me a curious and unreasonable sensation of anger. "I forbid you to jump, Sally," I said, almost sharply; "you know I hate it." She leaned forward, glancing first at me and then at George, with an expression of surprise. "Why, what's the matter, Ben?" she asked. "He's a perfect bear, isn't he, George?" "The best way to keep her from jumping," observed George, pleasantly enough, though his face flushed, "is to be on the spot to catch her bridle or her horse's mane or anything else that's handy. It's the only means I've found successful, for there was never a Bland yet who didn't go straight ahead and do the thing he was forbidden to. Miss Mitty told me with pride that she had been eating lobster, which she always hated, and I discovered her only reason was that the doctor had ordered her not to touch it." "Then I shan't forbid, I'll entreat," I replied, recovering myself with an effort. "Please don't jump, Sally, I implore it." "I won't jump if you'll come with me, Ben," she answered.