“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. “No, nothing at all, nothing at all,” returned Lord Breton in a gratified voice. “Be careful of the evening air. You are well-wrapped?” “Oh, yes,” she said, lingering. “I shall not be long gone. Goodbye.” “Goodbye.” She took a short drive in the mild Spring air, & came back, strengthened & freshened, before sundown. Strangely enough, there was no one to help her from the carriage but Sidenham, who always accompanied her; & in the hall she was met by her physician. A sudden foreboding rushed through her mind as she saw him coming towards her. “What is it?” she said faintly. He gave his arm & led her quietly into the empty salon. “Sit down, Lady Breton. Compose yourself, for Heaven’s sake,” he said. “Lord Breton is—very ill.” She looked at him in a dazed way. “I—I don’t think I understand,” she gasped. “Your husband is very dangerously ill,” said the physician again. “How can that be? He was much better when I went out—tell me, tell me!” Sidenham had brought a glass of wine, which she swallowed hurriedly at a sign from the doctor.