- ments a model of a brigantine and a sketch in crayons of
his wife. Whenever Sir George thought he had anything very particular to do, it was his habit to retire here and barricade himself in.
The morning after Florian's interview with Malletort, Cerise took up her post at the door of this stronghold, with a vague hope that chance might afford an opportunity for the explanation she desired.
"If he is really angry," thought poor Cerise, "and I am sure he must be, perhaps he will have taken my picture down, and I can ask him why, and he will scold me, and I shall put my arms round his neck, and he cannot help forgiving me then! Nobody else would be so unkind without a reason. And yet he is not unkind; I wish he were; and I wish, too, I had courage to speak out! Ah! it would be so much easier if I did not care for him!"
Lady Hamilton's hands were very cold while she stood at the door. After waiting at least five minutes she took courage, gave a timid little knock, and went in.
Nothing in the aspect of the apartment or its inmate afforded the opportunity she desired. Sir George, tranquilly engaged with a pair of compasses and a foot-rule, was whistling softly over a plan of his estates. Her own picture hung in its usual place. Glancing at it, she wondered whether she had ever been so pretty, and if so, how he could have got tired of her already. His calmness, too, was in irritating contrast to her own agitation. Altogether she did not feel half so meek as on the other side of the door.
He looked up from his employment, and rose.
"What is it, my lady?" he asked, pushing the implements aside. "Can I be of any service to you before I get on my horse? Emerald is at this moment saddled and waiting for me."
The tone was good-humoured enough, but cool and unconcerned as if he had been speaking to his grand-*mother. Besides, scarcely yet more than a bride, and to be called my lady! It was unbearable!
"If you are in such a hurry," she answered, angrily, "I will not detain you. What I had to say was of no
