Harden; it is ten o'clock and after. Good-night all. Go to bed early, Madge; you are losing your color from keeping too late hours. Philip, you never come to the house now; I want to see you soon. General, is it too late for you to walk part of the way with us? I want to consult you about my"—she hesitated a moment—"about my—my new picture-gallery. You know I think of building an extension this summer."
With a smile as innocent as that of a child she looked into the old General's face and carried him off triumphantly, a willing slave to her charms. The wily enchantress discoursed for an hour with that innocent man about her imaginary picture-gallery, to the astonishment of good Darius Harden, who was too diplomatic a soul and too well-disciplined a husband to betray any surprise at the startling plans which his wife was now disclosing for the first time.
Meanwhile Philip was left alone with Margaret after the long, hard day's work, which jarred upon his artistic, sensitive nature more than even she, who knew him so well, could guess. His passionate love of beautiful things in nature and in art made each ugly and diseased being that came under his care a positive pain to him; yet he had endured this for her sake, that he might be more worthy of her. Had he not earned the right to speak, to tell her what he had done for her, to
