“I am driven to it,” he cried fiercely; “the child detests me!”
“Oh no, no, no,” she whispered, placing her arm round his neck.
“And rushes to that fellow Bayle as if she had been taught to look upon him as everybody.”
“Nay, nay,” she said softly; and there was a tender smile upon her lip, a look of loving pity in her eye. “Julie likes Mr Bayle, for he pets her, and plays with her as if he were her companion.”
“And I am shunned.”
“Oh, no, dear, you frighten poor Julie sometimes when you are in one of your stern, thoughtful moods.”
“My stern, thoughtful moods! Pshaw!”
“Yes,” she said tenderly; “your stern, thoughtful moods. The child cannot understand them as I do, dear husband. She thinks of sunshine and play. How can she read the depth of the father’s love – of the man who is so foolishly ambitious to win fortune for his child? Robert – husband – my own, would it not be better to set all these strivings for wealth aside, and go back to the simple, peaceful days again?”
“You do not understand these things,” he said harshly. “There, let me go. I ought to have been at the bank an hour ago, but I could not get a wink of sleep all the early part of the night.”
“I know, dear. It was three o’clock when you went to sleep.”
“How did you know?”
“The clock struck when you dropped off, dear. I did not speak for fear of waking you.”
She did not add that she, too, had been kept awake about money matters, and wondering whether her husband would consent to live in a more simple style in a smaller house.
“There, good-bye,” he said, kissing her. “It is all coming right. Don’t talk to your father or mother about my affairs.”