"You are the soul of discretion， my beloved，" said the husband. "Is your stock of phrases equal to a suggestion as to what instrument is the soul of a woman， Ayrton？" he added. "Her heart is a barometer， her toilet a thermometer， and her soul----"
"The soul of a woman is not an instrument， but a flower--a lily，" said Mr. Ayrton.
"And my wife wears her soul upon her sleeve，" said Mr. Linton， touching the design on the lace that fell from her shoulders.
"But not for daws to peck at--that is the heart，" laughed Mr. Ayrton.
"Talking of woman's soul， how is Lady Earlscourt？" he added， to his daughter.
"I was so sorry that I was at that stupid dinner，" said Phyllis. "I might have enjoyed the music of 'Romeo and Juliet.' But I had engaged myself to Lady Earlscourt a fortnight ago."
"You did not see Lord Earlscourt， at any rate，" said her father.
"No； he left us in the evening for Southampton，" said Phyllis.
"And， curiously enough， I dined with him at the club，" said her father. "Yes， he came in with Herbert Courtland at half-past seven； he had met Courtland and persuaded him to join him in his cruise to Norway. They dined at my table， and by the time we had finished Courtland's man had arrived with his bag. He had sent the man a message from the club to pack. They left by the eight-forty train， and I expect they are well under way by this time."
"That's quite too bad of Courtland，" said Mr. Linton. "I wanted to have a talk with him--a rather serious talk."
Ella had listened to Mr. Ayrton's account of that little dinner party at the club with white cheeks--a moment before they had been red--and with her lips tightly closed. Her hands were clenched until the tips of the nails were biting into each of her palms， before he had come to the end of his story--a story of one incident. But when her husband had spoken her hands relaxed. The blaze that had come to her eyes for a second went out without a flicker.
"A serious talk？" she murmured.
"A serious talk--about the mine，" replied her husband.
"About the mine，" she repeated， and a moment after burst into a laugh that was almost startling in its insincerity. "It is so amusing， this chapter of cross-purposes，" she cried. "What a sight it has been！ a night of thrilling surprises to all of us！ I miss Phyllis by half an hour and my husband misses me by less than half an hour. He comes at express speed from Paris to have a talk， a serious talk， with Mr. Courtland about the mine， and while he is driving from Victoria， Mr. Courtland is driving to the same station with Lord Earlscourt！"
"What a series of fatalities！" said Mr. Ayrton. "But what seemed to me most amusing was the persuasiveness of Earlscourt. He has only to speak half a dozen words to Courtland， and off he goes to Norway at a moment's notice with probably the most uncongenial boat's load that Courtland ever sailed with， and he must have done a good deal in that way in New Guinea waters. Now， why should Courtland take such a turn？"
"Ah， why， indeed！" cried Mrs. Linton. "Yes， that is， as you say， the most amusing part of the whole evening of cross-purposes. Why should he run away just at this time--to-night--to-night？"
"What is there particular about to-night that Courtland's running away should seem doubly erratic？" asked Mr. Linton， after a little pause.
He had his eyes fixed coldly upon his wife's face.
She turned to him and laughed quite merrily.
"What is there particular about to-night？" she repeated. "Why， have you not arrived from Paris to-night to have that serious talk with him about the mine？ Doesn't it seem to you doubly provoking that he didn't stay until to-morrow or that you didn't arrive yesterday？ Why， why， why did he run away to-night before nine？"
"Why before nine？" said her husband.
"Heavens！ Was not that the hour when you arrived home？ You said so just now，" she cried. Then she picked up her wrap. Phyllis had thrown it over a chair when it had lain in a heap on the floor as Cleopatra's wrap may have lain when she was carried into the presence of her lover. "My dear Stephen， don't you think that as it is past nine， and Mr. Courtland is probably some miles out at sea with his head reposing on something hard，--there is nothing soft about a yacht，--we should make a move in the direction of home？ It seems pretty clear that you will have no serious talk with him to-night. Alas！ my Phyllis， our dream of happiness is over. We are to be separated by the cruelty of man， as usual. Good-night， my dear！ Good-night， Mr. Ayrton！ Pray forgive us for keeping you out of bed so long； and receive my thanks for restoring my long-lost husband to my arms. Didn't you say that the hansom was waiting， Stephen？"
"I expect the man has been asleep for the last half-hour，" said her husband.
"I hope nothing has gone astray with the gold mine，" said she. "Hasn't someone made a calculation regarding the accumulation of a shilling hansom fare at compound interest when the driver is kept waiting？ It is like the sum about the nails in the horse's shoe. We shall be ruined if we remain here much longer."
"Ah， my dear，" said Mr. Ayrton， when he had kissed her hand， and straightened the sable collar of her wrap； "ah， my dear， a husband is a husband."
"Even when he stays away from his wife for three months at a time？" said Ella.
"Not in spite of that， but on account of it，" said Mr. Ayrton. "Have you been married all these years without finding that out？"
"Good-night！" said she.
第一章CHAPTER XXII. HE HAD EXPLAINED TO PHYLLIS ONCE THAT HE THOUGHT OF GOD ONLY AS A PRINCIPLE.
The sound of the hansom wheels died away before the father and daughter exchanged a word. Mr. Ayrton was the first to speak.
"It seems to have been a night of mischance，" said he.
"I am very glad that Mr. Linton has returned，" said she.
"What？ Now， why should you be glad of that very ordinary incident？"
"Why？ Oh， papa， I am so fond of her！"
"She may be fond of him， after all."
Mr. Ayrton spoke musingly.
"Of course she is，" said Phyllis， with a positiveness that was designed to convince herself that she believed her own statement.
