A slight bitterness quivered around the lips of the young wife, and although the conversation had been carried on in low tones, her voice sank even lower as she returned: "Perhaps you have forgotten, Herbert, why I gave you my hand."
"Have you had cause to regret it?" he asked instead of replying.
"No," said Adelaide, drawing a deep breath.
"I should think you could be satisfied with the position you have at my side. Besides, you remember that I did not compel you. I left you perfectly free choice."
The wife was silent, but the bitter expression did not leave her lips.
Wallmoden arose and offered his arm.
"You must permit me, my child, to come to your assistance sometimes in your inexperience," he said in his usual polite tone. "So far I have had every reason to be satisfied with your tact and manner. To-day is the first time I have had to give you a hint. May I ask if you are ready to return?"
"I should like to remain here a few moments longer," said Adelaide in a smothered voice. "It is so insufferably hot in the salons."
"Just as you desire, but I beg that you will not remain too long, as your absence would cause remark."
He saw and felt that she was offended, but found it expedient not to notice it. Baron Wallmoden, in spite of all his politeness and attention, understood that in the training of his wife such kinds of sentiment must not be encouraged. He left the room, and Adelaide remained alone. She leaned her head upon her hand, and with unseeing eyes stared at the group of plants near her, whispering almost inaudibly: "Free choice--O, my God!"