The few words touched the recreant wife. She knew how much Anthony must have suffered ere he condescended to write them, and her heart went out to meet her husband. Now, when a woman is led by her heart she is very seldom led wrong. Eleanor's first instinct was to sit down and write, "Come at once, dear Anthony." But, instead of obeying it, she began to reason, and so got to floundering in a quagmire of suppositions.
She told herself that this was a crisis in her matrimonial affairs, and that if she gave way too easily, the whole battle might be to fight over again. She concluded that if Aske loved her well enough to humble himself so far, he would go further; far enough, indeed, to render his future subservience to her will a certainty. An answer which would bring about such a desirable result was difficult to compose. No answer was better than a blundering one, for silence neither asked too much nor surrendered too much. She resolved upon it.
"There is no answer," said a servant to the waiting groom; but oh! what a sad, troubled face watched him galloping down the long avenue with the unkind message. If Anthony
