"Do I not say," he exclaimed, angrily, "do as you will? I gave you my opinion as to what I thought would be best, and you differ. Very well; one of us must give way, and I have yielded. What more would you have? Do I ever play the domestic tyrant? Am I ever unreasonable?" Lady Gernon was silent, and stood pale and motionless, looking at the table upon which she rested her hand. She was still very beautiful; but there was a sharpness about her features that told of suffering, and the workings of a troubled heart. It was evident that she wished to speak, but the words would not come, and at last, fearing to display her agitation, she glided back to her seat. But she had gained her end: there was to be reconciliation, and a friendly feeling preserved between the two families. And why not? she asked herself. Were they to be always enemies on account of the past? Sinking thoughtfully back in her chair, she rested her forehead upon her hand, dreaming over the incidents of the past few years, and even while feeling a dread of the impending meeting, she felt a longing desire to look once more upon her old lover--upon the man who, upon her wedding-day, had seemed, as it were, to cast a blight upon her future life, as he appeared like one rising from the dead to upbraid her with her falling away. Lady Gernon did not see the curious way in which her husband sat and watched her, marking every change in her countenance, noting every sign. He had been startled by the earnestness with which she had combated his wishes. Her manner had been so new, her eager words so unusual; for during their married life her actions had been of the most subdued nature, and, as if resigning herself to her fate, she had been the quiet, uncomplaining wife, to whom his word had been law, while, proud of her beauty and accomplishments, he had been content. But no words passed till, rousing herself, Lady Gernon sought to remove any strange impression her utterances might have made--sought, but in vain, for she had unwittingly sown seeds that had already begun to germinate, striking root deeply in her husband's breast, soon to flourish for ill in a way that should defy her utmost efforts to uproot them. Book 1, Chapter XII. FOOD FOR SUSPICION. "Who?" exclaimed Mrs Norton, aghast, as her servant hurriedly made an announcement. "Sir Murray and Lady Gernon. I saw the carriage come in at the lower gate. There they are, ma'am," said the girl, as the grating of wheels upon the drive preceded a loud peal at the bell. "For Heaven's sake be calm, Philip!" exclaimed Mrs Norton, as she saw him turn ghastly pale, all save the great scar upon his face, which seemed to glow and throb. "Not at home! We can't see them!" he exclaimed hoarsely.