GRACE FLEMYNG'S HUSBAND.
21
"Changed! Oh, nonsense! I have only
made my dbut as a traveler; and, as travelers
proverbially see strange things, I have come
back slightly blase."
"Grace!" Val exclaimed, reproachfully.
She laughed a hard mirthless laugh, which
seemed to be one of her requirements since her
marriage. And when she gave the signal to
leave tlie table, and passed her husband with-
out word or look, she was surely as strange a
bride as had ever moved in the old house.
Valentine Meredith was puzzled. He left
his seat and went round to Fulke's side.
" Well, old man," he said. I haven't had a
word with you! How are you getting on?
How did you enjoy Paris?"
"Just so-so. I. spent my time loafing about
the clubs, and kicking my heels outside milli-
ner's shops. And what clothes Grace did buy !"
" She looks very seedy. I say, my dear old
fellow, whatever possessed you to let her go to
the Morgue?"
" The~Morgue!" Fulke repeated, incredulous-
ly.    " She has not been there!"
"But she hasand not only that; she actu-
ally saw three bodies, and heard all the idle
stories about them too."
" Good Heaven !" Fulke exclaimed. " I had
no doubt of it! I will speak to her afterward.
By the way, how came Miss Lindenshoe here?"
"I'm sure I don't know. I suppose the
mother asked her with the rest. What an
awfully handsome woman she is!"
"Yes," Fulke responded, passing his hand
wearily across his eyes.
" Yet Cecily cannot bear her. She was fu-
riously angry at her being invited."
"Yes. Grace does not care for her either.
Shall we go into the drawing-room now?"
Val rose willingly enough; aud they found
tho ladies chatting, apparently in the closest
friendship, round the fire. The half-circle
broke up as the gentlemen entered, and Grace
poured out their tea, although Miss Linden-
shoe offered to spare her the trouble of doing
so.
After handing the cups round, Mr. Flemyng,
who did not care for tea, remained standing by
his wife's chair, his arm resting on the back of
it. Valentinewho, since his suspicions had
been aroused, was watching everything care-
fullySaw tho sudden flush which crept across
Grace's face at Fulke's approach, and the old
soft light steal back shyly into her eyes; and
he came to the conclusion that, although a
cloud had certainly arisen between them,
Grace's indifference toward her husband was
not the cause of it.
Presently Miss Lindenshoe sang a florid pro-
duction by some Italian composer, for which
nobody seemed to care.    And then Fulke bent
  down to his wife, saying in a low voice
"Will you sing something, Grace?"
Only Valentine heard the question, and he
saw the look of fear, whicli had puzzled him so
much before, steal back into her eyes.   Her re-
ply was cold and haughty.
"Not to-night. You are standing on my
dress, Fulke."                                      .
A dark shade passed over Fulke s face. He
looked irresolutely at his wife for a moment,
and then deliberately crossed the room and
seated himself beside Esther, while Valentine
took his place.
" Too tired to sing for us to night, Grace?
Valentine asked, by'way of starting a conver-
sation.
"Oh, noI am not very tired! she an-
swered, with a frosty smile. "I will sing if
you like."
She rose at once, and moved to the piano,
her husband's eyes following her with deep
anger; but Grace did not see his look. Some
one asked for " Robin Adair," and she sang it,
a world of misery ringing in every note of her
rich contralto voice.
" ' What, when the play was o'er,
What made my heart so sore?
Oh, it was parting with
Robin Adairt
" ' But now thou'rt cold to me,
Robin Adairl
Yet him I loved sae well
Still in my heart shall dwell
Oh, I can ne'er forget
Robin Adairl"
Fulke Flemyng watched her in astonish-
ment. Could this gentle-eyed loving woman
be Grace, his wife, who, since her wedding-
day had repulsed his attentions and caresses
with every mark of dislike? Was there some
other, some Robin Adair,  whose loss she be-
wailed so bitterly? No; he could not entertain
a doubt of her for one instant. He remembered
how in the train, after they had left Crag's
Nook, she had nestled close up to him, like a
frightened dove. What was it then that had
changed her so entirely that he hardly recog-
nized in her the sweet disposition of the girl he
had married?
CHAPTER VIII.
An hour or two later, when Fulke entered
his room, Grace, wrapped in a soft cashmere
dressing-gown, of the pure creamy tint whicli
suited her to perfection, was lying apparently
half-asleep in a low chair, while her maid
brushed her long fair hair.
" Shall I stay to braid it, madame?" the girl
"No, I will finish it myself,"Grace amswered
in the sweet tone in which she spoke to every
one but Fulke.
When the maid left the room, she sat up and
plaited her hair swiftly into two long braids;
then, with her small hands clasped about her
knees, she gazed thoughtfully into the fire. By
this time Fulke had gained his old position
against'the chimney-piece.
" Grace," he began, speaking in thekiud tone
which always set her heart throbbing quickly,
" I am very sorry to hear you went to the
Morgueit was very foolish!"
"Yes?" she said, indifferently, tapping her
foot upon the fender.                                            j
"You might be sure I should not have al-
lowed it, if 1 had known of your wish to go,"
he continued.
There was no answer this time, only a slight
shrug of her shoulders.
"If you go to any exhibition of that kind
again," he went on in a determined tone, " I
shall be very angry. "
" I shall please myself," Grace returned calm-
ly
" You will do nothing of the kind. Remem
ber, I distinctly forbid it!"
Grace rose and stood before him, looking a
small fragile creature by her husband's side.
" Listen to me, Fulke," she said, with an In-
tensity of suppressed passion in her voice which
startled him. "We have made a mistake, a
terrible mistake, both of us, which it is now
too late to remedy. Do not let us make our
lives more miserable than need be by attempt-
ing to control each other's actions. You go
your way, and I will go mine."
"My dear child," said Fulke soothingly,
"we may have made a mistake, as you say;
but, for my part, I do not wish to undo it"
laying his "hand kindly on her shoulder as he
spoke.                                        , ,         .    ,,
Giace pushed away the hand impatiently.
"Do you not?" she said significantly. For
she believed he was lying to her. She thought
in her blind sorrow that, finding his life insup-
portable with her, he had arranged with Esther
that she should visit them at Flemyng Court.
That he still loved this woman passionately she
bad no doubt; for tlie very day after their mar-
riage, when he had fallen asleep, had she not
heard him murmur in his dreams, " Comeback
to me, Esther, and I will forgive?"
From these remembrances Fulke's voice
aroused her.                                      .
"No," he said. "I have no wish to undo
it!   Have you?"
" Oh, Heaven, yes!" she cried, clasping her
hands together. ' ' Yes, I would give you back
your freedom this very moment,   if I could !"
" You repent already?" he asked, incredu-
lously.
"Bitterly."                                     ,     . L
"Then you are"quite right. For the future
your actions shall be quite uncontrolled by me
You shall, as you desire, go your way.
 will
go mine.                                               ,          . ,
And without waiting for her reply, he lett
the room.                             .   , ,.      ,-,         #_ii
As the door closed behind him, Grace fell
upon her knees with a smothered cry.
'Now it is all over," she moaned; ' the very
semblance of affection is done with ! Oh, how
that woman w-ill glory in her triumph!
But she was wrong. On the following morn-
ing her husband met her with a careless ease
which completely deceived Valentine and
Cecily, who both thought the husband and wife
had "made it up."
" Come come, Grace, we are all waiting tor
vou," Fulke said, when she entered the break-
fast-room.    "I was just thinking of pouring
out the coffee myself."
"I offered to do it," said Esther, suavely;
"but of course Mr. Flemyng preferred waiting
for you."
" Of course," answered Grace, sharply. " You
were so kind as to offer to pour out the tea
last evening, Miss Lindenshoe; but if I am un-
iible to do" it, my sister will take my place,
thank you !"
"Very well," said Esther, meekly, glancing
up at Fulke to see how he took this absolute
rudeness.
However, he only laughed, and asked his
wife to have some pie. Miss Lindenshoe could
not understand it. Only last evening Grace
had been almost at "daggers drawn" with
him, and yet his only desire seemed to be to
propitiate her. Could it be possible that, after
all, she had been wrong, and that he had married
Grace for love? Well", never mind if it were so.
She had sown the seeds of discord by that
timely little interview with Grace on the morn-
ing of their wedding-day. All the same, just
then it did not seem that her cause was advanc-
ing much, for as soon as breakfast was over
Fulke went round to his wife's chair.
" Will you drive with me this morning? I
want to talk to you," he said, in a low tone.
"Very well," she answered, and, like an
obedient wife, went up-stairs to dress.
Her husband followed her and found her, for
the first time since their wedding-day, arrayed
in the sealskin jacket with the sables which he
had bought for her at Moncktown.
" So you are going to wear that, are you?" he
said, pleasantly.
Grace looked at him in astonishment.
" I don't know," she stammered.
Mr. Flemyng laughed outright.
" You are a little simpleton, Grace," he said,
" You were quite right when you told me you
had no brains."
"I have feelings," she returned, ^n a low
tone.
" Very cross ones, too. Now look at me and
say you did not mean all that nonsense you told
me last night. You were cross and I was cross,
so we were both in fault; but kiss me and let
us forget all about it."
" I did mean it," Grace replied, slowly.
"I don't believe it," Fulke said, lightly;
".but, if you really did, why you must just
make the best you can of the bad bargain
which, if you remember rightly, I told you at
the time you were making."
" But I," she began, when Fulke stopped her
quivering lips with kisses.
"I tell"you I won't hear it," he said, impera-
tively, " and the mare is waiting. Get ready
at once and put on some rings. Do not let me
see your fingers again without them, do you
hear?" he added, playfully.
" Yes," Grace answered, with a little sigh,
which was only half a troubled one.
Now that the light had come back to her
eyes Fulke thought how very pretty his wife
was. They went down-stairs together into the
breakfast-room, where most of the guests were
still lingering.
Esther Liudenshoe was standing near the
fire, and saw, with undisguised astonishment,
the change in Grace, who, in the flush of her
newly-restored peace with Fulke, could not re-
sist slipping her hand under his arm, as he
stood before the fire. Cecily was quite as much
surprised as Esther, and Fulke perceived it.
He held up his two fore fingers crossed just in
front of her face.
" What have you got to sray for yourself? he
demanded with a laugh, for as yet his sister-in-
law had been anything but civil to him, imag-
ining he was ill-using Grace in some frightful
way.                                                            ,     ...
"Please, I'm very sorry " she returned, with
mock penitence.
" What is all that about?" asked Grace.
" Nothing, my dear, nothing. Only a little
private matter between your sister and myself.
I should like to know if you are aware that
you are keeping my poor mare shivering in the
cold all this time?"
"Did you ever hear  anything like that;
Grace asked of the assembled company.
" You'd better be careful, Fulke," said Val-
entine, smiling, "or you'll be getting a wigging
in private."                        ,.._.,                   ,
" Yes, so indeed I shall, Fulke answered,
" for Grace is a tremendous hand at that sort
of thing."                             ,                   -
I     "Oh Fulke!" Grace cried, reproachfully.