"Then that time is the present one, with regard to Mrs. Duff. She applied to me for the money this morning. At least, she asked if I would speak to you--which is the same thing. She says you owe her thirty-two pounds. Sibylla, I had far rather been stabbed than have heard it." "A fearful sum, truly, to be doled out of your coffers!" cried Sibylla, sarcastically. "You'll never recover it, I should think!" "Not that--not that," was the reply of Lionel, his tone one of pain. "Sibylla! have you _no_ sense of the fitness of things? Is it seemly for the mistress of Verner's Pride to keep a poor woman, as Mrs. Duff is, out of her money; a humble shopkeeper who has to pay her way as she goes on?" "I wish Fred had lived! He would never have taken me to task as you do." "I wish he had!" was the retort in Lionel's heart; but he bit his lips to silence, exchanging the words, after a few minutes' pause, for others. "You would have found Frederick Massingbird a less indulgent husband to you than I have been," he firmly said. "But these remarks are profitless, and will add to the comfort of neither you nor me. Sibylla, I shall send, in your name, to pay this bill of Mrs. Duff's. Will you give it me?" "I dare say Benoite can find it, if you choose to ask her." "And, my dear, let me beg of you not to contract these paltry debts. There have been others, as you know. I do not like that Mrs. Verner's name should be thus bandied in the village. What you buy in the village, pay for at once." "How can I pay while you stint me?" "Stint you!" repeated Lionel, in amazement. "_Stint_ you!" "It's nothing but stinting--going on at me as you do!" she sullenly answered. "You would like to deprive me of the horses I have set my mind upon! You know you would!" "The horses you cannot have, Sibylla," he answered, his tone a decisive one. "I have already said it." It aroused her anger. "If you don't let me have the horses, and all other things I want, I'll go where I can have them." What did she mean? Lionel's cheek turned white with the taunt the words might be supposed to imply. He held her two hands in his, pressing them nervously. "You shall not force me to quarrel with you, Sibylla," he continued, with emotion. "I have almost registered a vow that no offensive word or conduct on your part shall make me forget myself for a moment; or render me other than an ever considerate, tender husband. It may be that our marriage was a mistake for both of us; but we shall do well to make the best of it. It is the only course remaining." He spoke in a strangely earnest tone; one of deep agitation. Sibylla was aroused. She had believed that Lionel blindly loved her. Otherwise she might have been more careful to retain his love--there's no knowing. "How do you mean that our marriage was a mistake for both of us?" she hastily cried. "You do your best to remind me continually that it must be so," was his reply.