"One cannot be talking to a wife all day," he said, peevishly, and let fall his leg and loosened his plaited fingers. She instinctively did the same. "Can you not? Oh, indeed, that is news to me. I should have thought that you would never have lacked material for talk. Flames, darts--hymeneal altars smoking." He looked sullenly out of the window, turning his back to her, and made no reply. She waited for a response, then said, "If not these subjects, then chickens and goslings." He turned his head impatiently, and said, "You are mocking me. You!--and I came here for comfort from you--you, Julian!" There was pain in his manner and expression, and she was somewhat touched. "Oh, Anthony, you said you had come here after Fox, and now you say you came to see me." He passed his hand over his forehead to wipe away the drops formed there. He did not answer her, to correct the effect of his words, but put up his hand to the glass, and with a shaking finger drew on the diamond pane, between the initials, a lover's knot. "Anthony," she said, after a pause, "I suppose I must tell you why Fox has gone into Tavistock, for it concerns you mightily, and you should not be kept in the dark concerning him. Do you recall what I said when we were dancing together at Wringworthy?" "No, Julian, nothing. That was a bright and delightful dream. I have awaked out of it, and remember nothing." "I told you that Fox had set his mind on Bessie--your Bessie. You scouted the notion, but I spoke the truth. And he has been as open to his father and me thereon as is possible for him. You, Anthony, have a good and kind nature--you are too ready to trust any one. Always upright and straightforward yourself, never thinking evil in your heart, never putting forth a foot to trip up an enemy--certainly never a friend." Anthony's head was raised. This was what he wanted--a few words of commendation came down as warm rays of sunshine on his depressed and drooping heart. "You, Tony, have never mistrusted Fox, for it was not in you to mistrust any one. But I know his real nature. He is seeking his own ends. He has been over at Hall two and three times a week, and----" she laughed, "will you believe it? has been cajoling the old man, your father, into the belief that it is possible he may win and wear me, as--as--" she hesitated. "As he was disappointed----" Anthony turned and looked at her, and their eyes met. Hers fell, and he looked again hastily at the window-pane--at the initials, and the lover's knot between them. The moisture had collected in the figures he had described, and had formed drops at the bottom of each downstroke. "That is not all. Whether your father builds greatly on this or not I cannot say; but Fox has dangled the prospect before him, whilst he snatched at something for himself--even at Bessie, the heiress of Hall, now that you are thrown out into the wet and cold."