unexpressed poetic emotions;--and thus subject, in spite of the
strength of his will, to much weakness of purpose. Madame Voss
perhaps condemned her husband in this matter the more because his
romantic disposition never showed itself in his intercourse with
her. He would kiss Marie's hand, and press Marie's wrist, and hold
dialogues by the eye with Marie. But with his wife his speech was,-
-not exactly yea, yea, and nay, nay,--but yes, yes, and no, no. It
was not unnatural therefore that she should specially dislike this
weakness of his which came from his emotional temperament. 'I would
just let things go, as though there were nothing special at all,'
she said again to him, before supper, in a whisper.

'And so I do. What would you have me say?'

'Don't mind petting her, but just be as you would be any other day.'

'I am as I would be any other day,' he replied. However, he knew
that his wife was right, and was in a certain way aware that if he
could only change himself and be another sort of man, he might
manage the matter better. He could be fiercely angry, or
caressingly affectionate. But he was unable to adopt that safe and
golden mean, which his wife recommended. He could not keep himself
from interchanging a piteous glance or two with Marie at supper, and
put a great deal too much unction into his caress to please Madame
Voss, when Marie came to kiss him before she went to bed.

In the mean time Marie was quite aware that it was incumbent on her
to determine what she would do. It may be as well to declare at
once that she had determined--had determined fully, before her uncle
and George had started for their walk up to the wood-cutting. When