Beyond the Rocks

And the summer wore away and the dripping autumn came, and with each

week, each day almost, Josiah seemed to shrivel.

It was not very noticeable at first, after the ten days of sharp illness

which had prostrated him when he received the fatal letter.

He appeared to recover almost from that, and they went down to

Bessington Hall at the beginning of July. But there was no further talk

of a second honeymoon.

Theodora's tenderness and devotion never flagged. If her heart was

broken she could at least keep her word, and try to make her husband

happy. And so each one acted a part, with much zeal for the other's

welfare.

It was anguish to Josiah to see his wife's sweet face grow whiter and

thinner; she was so invariably bright and cheerful with him, so

considerate of his slightest wish.

His pride and affection for her had turned into a sort of adoration as

the days wore on. He used to watch her silently from behind a paper, or

when she thought he slept. Then the mask of smiles fell from her, and he

saw the pathetic droop of her young, fair head and the mournful gloom

that would creep into her great, blue eyes.

And he was the stumbling-block to her happiness. She had sent away the

man she loved in order to stay and be true to him, to minister to his

wants, and do her utmost to render him happy. Oh, what could he do for

her in return? What possible thing?

He lavished gifts upon her; he lavished gifts upon her sisters, upon her

father; their welfare, he remembered, was part of the bargain. At least

she would know these--her dear ones--had gained by it, and, so far, her

sacrifice had not been in vain.

This thought comforted him a little. But the constant gnawing ache at

his heart, and the withdrawal of all object to live for, soon began to

tell upon his always feeble constitution.

Of what use was anything at all? His house or his lands! His pride in

his position--even his title of "squire," which he often heard now. All

were dead-sea fruit, dust and ashes; there never would be any Browns of

Bessington in the years to come. There never would be anything for him,

never any more.

For a week in September Captain and Mrs. Dominic Fitzgerald had paid

them a visit, and the brilliant bride had cheered them up for a little

and seemed to bring new life with her. She expressed herself as

completely satisfied with her purchase in the way of a husband; it was

just as she had known, three was a lucky number for her, and Dominic was

her soul's mate, and they were going to lead the life they both loved,

of continual movement and change and gayety.