Remorse had taken a new & a more practical form with her. For once she saw how small, how base & petty had been her part in the great, harmonious drama of life; how mean the ends for which she had made so great a sacrifice; how childish the anger & disappointment she had cherished—how self-made the fate against which she had railed. She had looked forward that day to a drive, the chief pleasure & excitement of her monotonous hours; but ringing the bell, she countermanded her carriage, & went downstairs to her husband’s room. Lord Breton was sitting helpless in his arm-chair, the sun dazzling his eyes through the unshaded window, & his newspapers pushed aside as if whatever interest they contained had long ago been exhausted. He looked up with some surprise when Georgie entered with her slow, feeble step, & crossing the room quietly dropped the Venetian shade. “Thank you,” he said. “The sun was blinding. I hope you are feeling better today, Georgina?” “Oh, yes, I think so,” she returned with a brave effort at gaiety, as she sank down in a low chair. “But I am afraid you are suffering. I…I am awfully sorry.” Lord Breton’s amazement waxed stronger. He even forgave the slang in which this unusual sympathy was clothed. “My pain is not very great,” he replied, affably, “& I think has been slightly alleviated thanks to Dr. W. I hope soon to be released from my imprisonment.” “You must be bored,” assented Georgie, then added suddenly as a new thought struck her: “I think you said once you liked…you were fond of playing chess. I…shall we play a game today?” Lord Breton wondered if the world were upsidedown. “Yes,” he said, even more affably, “I was once a good player, & it has always been a favourite pastime of mine. I never proposed it to you, as I understood that—that you had a peculiar aversion to the game.” Georgie turned scarlet. “That is nothing,” she said, hastily. “I think there is a board in the sitting-room. I will ring.” She sent for the board, & the contest immediatly began. How was it that in this new impulse of self-sacrifice Georgie began to lose the lonely weight of her sorrow, & brighten herself in proportion as her efforts dispersed Lord Breton’s moody dullness? They were both good players, but Georgie being the quicker-witted would have won had her tact not shewn her that she could please Lord Breton better by allowing herself to be defeated. It was quite late when the game ended, & Georgie had absolutely forgotten her drive; but her husband had not. “Surely you are going out today, Georgina?” he said. “You should have gone earlier, indeed. I fear I unintentionally detained you…” “Not at all!” she returned, promptly. “I had not meant to go.” “Nevertheless you should take advantage of the favourable weather. It is not yet too late.” “I had rather stay here, please,” said Georgie, but Lord Breton would not hear of it. He ordered the carriage, & she went up to dress with a lighter heart than she carried for many a day. As she came down again, some impulse made her enter her husband’s room. “There is nothing I can do for you in the town?” she asked.