brides, arrived, and we had rather noisy times of it at dinner. Rosy did not like any of them. Me they amused. I used to talk with the men, or rather boys, as I best could. (Among other articles I had purchased at St. Denys, was a French dictionary and a stock of French novels at which I studied some hours a day.) But my belief in the brides (I mean in their brideship) was soon first considerably shaken, and then altogether demolished. I remember how one evening I was sitting out on the veranda (in the evenings the sitting-room was nearly always deserted for the garden or the country round about), having been reading Balzac's Mémoires dc Deux Jeunes Mariées with some pleasure, when I became aware of one of our young couples at the bottom of the garden, sporting together somewhat as I supposed Isaac to have sported with Rebekah on a certain historic occasion not unconnected with Abimelech and a window. The idea made me laugh, and laugh again, till it shook my book down off my knees: when a hand was put over my eyes and firmly pressed there. I threw it off, and beheld Rosy standing, absolutely glaring at me.
'Hullo,' I said, 'what's the matter?'
'You were laughing at one of those girls,' she said.
'No,' I said, 'I was laughing at a couple there in the bushes, playing together.'
'You were not! You were laughing at that girl with the red hair. I saw her go out there a moment ago on purpose!'
'Are you joking?' I said surprisedly, getting up. I could see she was not. I turned a little. She turned, so as to keep her eyes on mine. Our eyes met and stayed together while I spoke:
'Rosy,' I said, 'I do not tell lies, at least of this sort. When I tell you I have done a thing, I do not expect you to question the truth of my words.'
'But you did!' she burst out, 'you did. You know you did!'
'Did what?'
'Nod to her, and laugh at her! I saw you!'
I lost patience. I gave one step to her.
'I warn you never to say such a thing again,' I said,
