He returned figuratively to his bed—the bed he had made for himself and in which he must for ever lie. “Lucy!” He whispered into her ear beneath a dusty curtain cloud. ” “But what did father imagine?” “Of course he imagined! Any one would! ‘What has happened, Peter?’ I asked. ” He said. Abruptly she desisted, recoiled, and turned and fled up-stairs. Only you seem to me since the time when I knew you in Paris to have changed—to have changed in some subtle manner which I find at times utterly bewildering. You'll never be guided by me—never!" "Indeed, my love, you're entirely mistaken," returned the carpenter, endeavouring to deprecate his wife's rising resentment by the softest looks, and the meekest deportment.
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