he saw that had she been so minded she could have caught two or three of
the nearest. Then, with her brush waving above her, she came gambolling
back to him so playfully that he stroked her indulgently, though he was
first vexed, and then rather puzzled that his wife should amuse herself
with such pranks.

But when they got within doors he picked her up in his arms, kissed her
and spoke to her.

"Silvia, what a light-hearted childish creature you are. Your courage
under misfortune shall be a lesson to me, but I cannot, I cannot bear to
see it."

Here the tears stood suddenly in his eyes, and he lay down upon the
ottoman and wept, paying no heed to her until presently he was aroused
by her licking his cheek and his ear.

After tea she led him to the drawing room and scratched at the door till
he opened it, for this was part of the house which he had shut up,
thinking three or four rooms enough for them now, and to save the
dusting of it. Then it seemed she would have him play to her on the
pianoforte: she led him to it, nay, what is more, she would herself pick
out the music he was to play. First it was a fugue of Handel's, then one
of Mendelssohn's Songs Without Words, and then "The Diver," and then
music from Gilbert and Sullivan; but each piece of music she picked out
was gayer than the last one. Thus they sat happily engrossed for perhaps
an hour in the candle light until the extreme cold in that unwarmed room
stopped his playing and drove them downstairs to the fire. Thus did she
admirably comfort her husband when he was dispirited.