"Rely upon it," he said, "that, after all, it is some trick of the
French woman."

But Lady Thesiger had no such hope.

"I felt sure there was something wrong with Miles," she said. "He was
not happy. He had married in haste and repented at leisure."

For my own part, I had no hope. Remembering the subtle, seductive beauty
of the woman, I could well imagine Miles being led, even against
himself, into a marriage or anything else.

When they were gone I went back to the library. I wanted to face this
terrible blow alone, to realize the possibility that instead of being
Sir Edgar Trevelyan, of Crown Anstey, wealthy, honored and powerful, I
was Edgar Trevelyan, poor, homeless and penniless.

Could it be possible that after this life of ease, luxury and happiness,
I was to fall back into the old position--hard, monotonous labor, with
eighty pounds per annum?

It seemed too hard. Do not think any the worse of me, reader, if I own
that the tears came into my eyes. It was bitterly hard.

Without warning Coralie entered the room. It must have been a triumph to
her to see the tears in my eyes. She stood at some little distance from
me.

"Edgar," she asked, "do you hate me?"