"Nothing that you can cure."
The harshness of his tone, the coldness of his manner, wounded her heart. She said no more, but went quietly from the room.
Never before had her beloved George spoken unkindly to her—never before had the smallest cloud obscured the calm horizon of her married life.
After this, the dark cloud hung black and heavy over that once happy household; the sun never shone again upon the young wife's home.
She tried to penetrate the secret of this sudden change, but she could not do so. She could complain of no unkindness from her husband—he never spoke harshly to her after that first day. His manner was gentle and indulgent; but it seemed as if his love had died, leaving in its place only a pitiful tenderness, strangely blended with sadness and gloom.
He asked Rosamond several questions about her father's past life; but on that subject she could tell him very little. She had never lived with her father until after the building of River View Cottage, and she knew nothing of his existence before that time, except that he had only been in England during brief intervals, and that he had always come to see her at school when he had an opportunity of doing so.
"He is the best and dearest of fathers," she said, affectionately.
George Jernam asked if Captain Duncombe had been in England during that spring in which Valentine met his death.
After a moment's reflection, Rosamond replied in the affirmative.
"I remember his coming to see me that spring," she said. "He came early in March, and again in April, and it was then he began first to talk of settling in England."