"You cannot expatriate a married man," he used to say, "for he carries with him that which makes a home for him wherever he goes."
She, too, was very happy in those days. She could never be persuaded that her husband had not made a great sacrifice in coming abroad for her sake; and she strove to repay him with all the tenderness and gratitude and love of a noble nature. She simply worshipped this man; not even the great affection she bore her bright-eyed quaint little daughter interfered with the one supreme passion. To her he was a miracle of all honourable and lovable qualities; never had any man been so generous, heroic, self-denying.
And yet Harry Ormond was a weak man—weak by reason of that very impulsiveness which often drove him into pronounced and vigorous action. As he leant back on his couch, after hearing the pathetic complaint of his little daughter, there were some such thoughts as these vaguely flitting before him:
"She will be an actress, too; a real actress, not a made one, thank God. And if I take her back to England as my child, will not all the poor would-be actresses of my acquaintance assume a fine air of patronage towards her and her mother? But, after all, Annie was on the stage—I cannot deny it; and I cannot quarrel with anybody for reminding me of the fact. All the tipsy ruffians of the town have sate and stared at her—d——m them! And just as surely is it impossible that I can remain here all my life. Annie is very well, and very affectionate; but I did not bargain for a life-long banishment. And one might as well be dead as live always out of London."
This was the first seed sown; and it grew rapidly and throve in such a mind as his. He became peevish at times; would occasionally grumble over the accidents of his present life, and then took to grumbling at that itself; sometimes held long conversations with the small Annie about England, and strove to impress her with the knowledge that everything fine and pleasant abode there; finally—and this process had been the work of only a week or two—he announced his intention of going to London on business.
His wife looked up from her work, with dismay on her face; he had never proposed such a thing before.
"Why cannot Mr. Chetwynd do that business for you also, Harry?" she asked.
"Because it is too important," he said, a little impatiently. "You need not fear so much my going to London for a fortnight."
He spoke in almost an irritated tone. Indeed, he did not himself know how impatient he was to get away from trammels which he had found irksome.
She went over to him, and placed her hand gently on his head.