Biddy.
“She don’t feel very well this evening,” I replied evasively.
“Sure the supper is all ready for the two of ye’s. The tay is drawn this half hour, and the crame toast is breakin’ in flitters wid waitin’ for ye’s.”
“Very well; I will have my supper immediately.”
The tea and the toast were certainly good enough even for Lilian; but it was the most miserable supper to which I ever sat down. My heart seemed to be almost broken. I lighted the gas in the little sitting-room, and threw myself into the rocking-chair. I looked around the apartment. Everything was neat, tasty and pleasant. Was it possible that Lilian refused to share such a palace with me? No; it was not her fault. With her mother’s permission how gladly she would have taken her place by my side. Mrs. Oliphant evidently had not given me credit for any considerable amount of resolution. She was “the better horse” in her own matrimonial relations, and she found it difficult to comprehend any other than a similar arrangement in her daughter’s family.
I tried to read the newspaper I had brought home with me, but my thoughts were with Lilian. I turned over the leaves of the books I had laid on the centre-table. I went into the dining-room and smoked. I was almost worn out with fatigue and excitement. I was miserable beyond description. I went to bed at midnight, and I went to sleep, but it was only to dream of Lilian, goading and persecuting me, led on by a demon who was always at her side.
I rose in the morning, and found my breakfast ready at the time I had ordered it. It was such a breakfast as Lilian liked, but she was not there to enjoy it, and I groaned in spirit. I must go to the bank. I was not to see my wife, but I decided to write her a line—it was only a line:
“Dearest Lilian:—I shall hope to find you at our new home when I come up from the bank.
“Paley.”
I sent Biddy to deliver it, and told her not to wait for an answer.