They were soon established in a house large enough to provide them
with every accommodation which they required. Ernest's days were
passed in the galleries, Mrs. Lismore remaining at home, devoted
to her music, until it was time to go out with her husband for
a drive. Living together in perfect amity and concord, they were
nevertheless not living happily. Without any visible reason for
the change, Mrs. Lismore's spirits were depressed. On the one
occasion when Ernest noticed it she made an effort to be cheerful,
which it distressed him to see. He allowed her to think that she
had relieved him of any further anxiety. Whatever doubts he might
feel were doubts delicately concealed from that time forth.

But when two people are living together in a state of artificial
tranquillity, it seems to be a law of nature that the element of
disturbance gathers unseen, and that the outburst comes inevitably
with the lapse of time.

In ten days from the date of their arrival at Munich the crisis
came. Ernest returned later than usual from the picture-gallery,
and, for the first time in his wife's experience, shut himself up
in his own room.

He appeared at the dinner hour with a futile excuse. Mrs. Lismore
waited until the servant had withdrawn.

"Now, Ernest," she said, "it's time to tell me the truth."

Her manner, when she said those few words, took him by surprise.
She was unquestionably confused, and, instead of looking at him,
she trifled with the fruit on her plate. Embarrassed on his side,