"Yes, yes, my boy; no one shall put you out," was the answer, as he pressed passionate kisses on the boy's face. "I will stand by you for ever."
Very judicious indeed! the once sensible man seemed to ignore the evident fact that the boy had been tutored. Lady Hartledon, a fear creeping over her, she knew not of what, left her brooch where it was, and stole back to her dressing-room.
Presently Val came in, all traces of emotion removed from his features. Lady Hartledon had dismissed her maid, and stood leaning against the arm of the sofa, indulging in bitter rumination.
"Silly children!" cried he; "it's hard work to manage them. And Edward has lost his pow—"
He broke off; stopped by the look of angry reproach from his wife, cast on him for the first time in their married life. He took her hand and bent down to her: fervent love, if ever she read it, in his eyes and tones.
"Forgive me, Anne; you are feeling this."
"Why do you throw these slights on my children? Why are you not more just?"
"I do not intend to slight our children, Anne, Heaven knows. But I—I cannot punish Edward."
"Why did you ever make me your wife?" sighed Lady Hartledon, drawing her hand away.
His poor assumption of unconcern was leaving him quickly; his face was changing to one of bitter sorrow.