Annie hesitated. She could not but know now on whom the blame of this miserable misunderstanding between herself and her husband lay. No explanation of Stephen’s infamous conduct to both of them occurred to her yet; but, even in the midst of her indignation against him, the pity she felt for the forlorn, weakly cripple urged her to shield him from the consequences of the terrible anger she already saw gathering in Harry’s blue eyes.
“I don’t think I ought to tell you anything,” she said, gently, “until I have found out whether there is not some explanation to be given of the matter. You are looking angry already. Don’t let us spoil this beautiful, happy evening by unkind and harsh thoughts about anybody, Harry. Won’t you wait——”
“No, I won’t wait!” interrupted he, very sternly. “Don’t shrink away, Annie; I love you for your sweet forgiveness; it is right for a woman to be ready to forgive. But there is something else for me to do. Now tell me all about it.”
“Not while you are in this mood, Harry. I will tell you when you have promised to let it pass without a word of reproach, except just what you may say to me.”
“You will tell me now, and without my making any promise, my darling,” said he very softly, drawing her up from her knees to a seat by his side.
Annie had never before felt her will unable to carry out her purposes. She struggled with herself now as she sat in the firm but gentle clasp of her husband’s arm, and saw his head bent in a listening attitude toward hers. Then, feeling at last the irresistible force of a resolution stronger than her own, she submitted—submitted in the most winning way in the world, placing her little hands on either side of his neck, and looking up at him with her sweetest, softest expression of face to coax away his anger.
“Then I must trust to your generosity, Harry. And, if you don’t behave generously and forgivingly about it, I shall think you are not glad to have me again, for happiness ought always to make people’s hearts softer.”
He kissed her without answering in words; and she went on:
“When Stephen first came to me with a letter from you, looking very ill, very miserable—I thought he was going to die—he made me very jealous and hurt me by telling me how much happier you were now you were away from town and among country people again. He did not know how fond I had grown of you, and that I was silly enough not to like to hear how well you were getting on without me. Were you as happy as he said, Harry?”
“I was happy just then, because Lord Lytham was beginning to show confidence in me, and I saw my way to earning money and being with you again. But, if he said I didn’t miss you, he told lies.”