"What is it, Bessie?" he asked. "Have I hurt you?"
The recollection of all the doubts and suspicious thoughts which had been in his mind came back, and forgetful of his idea that some recent anxiety made the change in her manner, he reproached himself with having brought a cloud between them by his own actions.
"Have I pained you in anything, Bessie?" he repeated.
"I feared the old trouble was coming back," she whispered.
"No, no; it must not, it shall not, Bessie! I am to blame—but if you knew what this wretched disposition makes me suffer! Every heart I trusted in my early life deceived me. I have only you left now—you and Elsie."
Perhaps it was natural that she should feel a little wifely jealousy at having his sister forced in, even to their closest confidence; her face was overclouded for an instant, but she subdued the feeling and said, kindly:
"I know what you have suffered, dear; I can understand the effect it has had upon your character—but you may trust me—indeed you may."
"I know that, dear wife; I believe that!"
He drew her closer to him; for a few moments she sat with her hand among the short, dark curls of his hair, then she said, abruptly:
"Grantley?"