"She came and nursed him faithfully; when he got better, though still
very weak, she took advantage of his unprotected position to inflict on
him the longest lectures, replete with good sense and good feeling, as
to his conjugal duties, proprieties, and so forth. He gave in at last,
on the principle of 'any thing for a quiet life,' and promised to behave
himself like a decent head of a family. When the balance of power was
thoroughly re-established, she left him, first entreating him, when he
found himself really in love with his wife, and happy, to write and tell
her so. This was to be her reward, you know. The others went to Italy,
Fernande to a place she had in Brittany, where she put herself on a
strict _régime_ of penitence, attending matins regularly, and doing as
much good in her neighborhood as Lady Bountiful, or--my mother. In about
a twelvemonth the letter came; Maurice was devoted to his wife, and
great on the point of domestic felicity. Then Fernande went into her
oratory and prayed. What do you think was the substance of her prayer?"

"That she might go mad or die," was the quick answer: it came from Flora
Bellasys.

"How good of you," Guy said, "to let me finish that long story, when you
knew it by heart."

I think no ear but his and mine caught the whisper--"I never read or
heard of it till now."

He bent his head in assent, as if the intelligence did not surprise him
much, and then spoke suddenly,

"Charley, will you make an observation? You have been displaying that
incontestable talent of yours for silence long enough."