It seemed as though her life never stood still, but rushed on with the hurry & brawl of the streamlet that cannot hide the stones clogging its flow. Altogether, she fancied herself happy; but there were moments when she might have said, with Miss Ingelow: “My old sorrow wakes & cries”; moments when all the hubbub of the present could not drown the low reproach of the past. It was a very thin partition that divided Georgie from her skeleton.

One day, when the last Christmas guests had departed from Lowood, & the new relay had not arrived, Lord Breton, who was shut up with a sharp attack of gout, sent a servant to Georgie’s dressing-room, to say that he would like to see my lady. She came to him at once, for even his company, & his slow, pompous speeches, were better than that dreadful solitude; although gout did not sweeten his temper. “My dear,” he said, “seeing that ivory chess-board in the drawing-room yesterday suggested to me an occupation while I am confined to my chair. I used to be a fair player once. Will you kindly have the board brought up?” As it happened, Georgie had not played a game of chess since the afternoon of her parting with Guy, & her husband’s words, breaking upon a train of sad thought (she had been alone nearly all day) jarred her strangely. “Chess!” she said, with a start. “Oh, I—I had rather not. Excuse me. I hate chess. Couldn’t we play something else?” Lord Breton looked surprised. “Is the game so repugnant to you that I may not ask you to gratify me this afternoon?” he asked, serenely; & Georgie felt almost ashamed of her weakness. “I beg your pardon,” she said. “I play very badly, & could only bore you.” “I think I can instruct you,” said Lord Breton, benignly; mistaking her aversion for humility, & delighted at the display of this wife-like virtue. “Oh, no, indeed. I am so stupid about those things. And I don’t like the game.” “I hoped you might conquer your dislike for my sake. You forget that I lead a more monotonous existence than yours, when confined by this unfortunate malady.” Lord Breton’s very tone spoke unutterable things; but if Georgie could have mastered her feeling, the spirit of opposition alone would have been enough to prick her on now. “I am sorry,” she said, coldly, “that my likes & dislikes are not under better control. I cannot play chess.” “You cannot, or will not?” “Whichever you please,” said Georgie, composedly. Lord Breton’s wrath became evident in the contraction of his heavy brows; that a man with his positive ideas about wifely submission, & marital authority, should have his reproofs answered thus! “I do not think,” he observed, “that you consider what you are saying.” “I seldom do,” said Georgia, with engaging frankness. “You know I am quite incorrigible.” “I confess, Lady Breton, I do not care for such trifling.” “I was afraid I was boring you. I am going to drive into Morley. Shall I order you any books from the library?” enquired Georgie, graciously. But as she rose to go, Lord Breton’s ire burst out. “Stay!” he exclaimed, turning red up to his rough eye-brows. “I repeat, Lady Breton, that I do not think you know what you are saying. This trivial evasion of so simple [a] request displeases me; & I must again ask you to sacrifice part of your afternoon to the claims of your husband.” Georgie, who [was] standing with her hand on the door, did not speak; but her eyes gave him back flash for flash. “Will you oblige me by ringing for the chess-board?” continued Lord Breton, rigidly.