"I do, I can tell you."

"The fact is," continued the lady, "that I'm
not very hungry to-day. Not now, at any
rate."

Such words as these would have the effect of
irritating in an excessive degree the temper of
the unhappy Gilbert, and it often took him some
time to get round sufficiently for purposes of
general conversation.

"Why, you are eating nothing," he said,
presently.

"I really have no appetite," replied the
martyr. "I dare say I shall be hungry by-and-
by, and you'll bring me some broth, Jane, won't
you?"

This was addressed to Miss Cantanker, whom
her mistress, when she wished to be particularly
amiable, would address by her Christian
name.

"Yes, miss," replied the acid one, highly
satisfied, "cup of nice 'ot broth."

This good lady always waited upon her
mistress at table, but on no one else. In
fact, it was her business to ignore Mr. and
Mrs. Penmore altogether, and to act as if
she was not aware of their existence. And,
as far as Gabrielle was concerned, Miss
Carrington followed on the same side, always
addressing herself to Gilbert in conversation,
and especially when there was anything that
she wanted done. The young lawyer was,
however, too much for her in this way, invariably
referring the matter, whatever it might be, back
to his wife, and so making it compulsory on
Miss Carrington to recognise the presence of
her hostess, whether she liked it or not.

"Oh, Gilbert," she said, on one occasion,
"I've got such a hard pillow up-stairs.
Wouldn't it be possible to let me have a softer
one?"

"My dear Diana"—this, by-the-by, was
Miss Carrington's euphonious Christian name—
"my dear Diana, I must remind you that
Gabrielle is the proper person to apply to about
such matters."

But it would be an uncongenial task to me to
record at length all the humiliating and painful
things which our poor Gabrielle had to put up
with at the hands of her tormentor. And yet
it would be difficult to say whether Mrs.
Penmore felt them more keenly than her husband.
It was he, certainly, who resented them the
most, and who retaliated the most severely in
words. Gabrielle had her husband to think of,
and that helped her to bear it, and only once or
twice was she betrayed into an angry word or
two under excessive pressure. She had to ask
Miss Carrington, for instance, on one occasion,
to speak to her when she had any complaints to
make about household matters, and not to apply
to Gilbert, who had troubles enough already of
his own. Then Miss Carrington, who shared
her domestic's hatred for the wretched maid-of-
all-work, would pounce out upon the unhappy
Charlotte on the staircase, and tell her not to
make so much noise in the room overhead, as
really her nerves could not stand it. Or she
would send down hostile messages to this
functionary through Miss Cantanker, and Mrs.
Penmore would find the girl in floods of tears, with
her head buried in her arms, and these supported
on the kitchen table. This, of course, had to
be spoken about, and "miching mallicho" was
naturally the result. Miss Carrington would
complain, too, from time to time, of the want of
servants in the house. She had had no idea
that they only kept one domestic, and it was
extremely inconvenient, because, in consequence
of this deficiency of attendants, so much
additional trouble fell to the lot of her faithful
Cantanker. The faithful Cantanker was always
present on these occasions, and ever ready to
put her oar in, on her mistress's side, till called
to order by the lady herself, when she was fain
to fall back upon malignant glaring. Indeed,
in this she excelled to an uncommon extent.
Her eyes were never off Mrs. Penmore when
they were in the same room, and she seemed to
listen with a fixed and venomous intensity to
every word that the poor lady uttered. Nor
was it only when palpably present that this
amiable woman listened. She was continually
being discovered outside doors and in passages
where she had no business; but she wore ever
on these occasions such a look of indignant
virtue, and presented at such times—as always
—so injured an appearance, that it was quite
impossible that any suspicion could attach to
her.

So the days passed, and every day that
dawned brought with it its full measure of
trouble. Meanwhile, our young couple consoled
themselves and each other with their great
mutual love, and were not all unhappy.

CHAPTER VI. MASTER AND MAN.

GILBERT PENMORE had a friend, to whom he
really did not hesitate to apply that much-
abused title, in the person of Julius
Lethwaite, of the Inner Temple, barrister-at-law,
not practising. Penmore had become acquainted
with him when they were both eating their
terms together, and they had gradually got to
be, first, acquaintances, and ultimately, even
friends. Lethwaite had a great belief in
Gilbert, and was firmly convinced that one of
these days he would certainly distinguish
himself and rise to eminence. For himself he
did not care. He was only nominally a
barrister, and had never intended to practise,
having, indeed, a share in a certain business
which was carried on, as he would say,
"somewhere in the City," and in the conduct of which
he never interfered. He had a confidential
clerk who watched his interests in connexion
with that same business, and who demanded
occasional interviews with his patron, in the
course of which he would put a great many
very difficult questions to Mr. Julius, as the old
man called him, and finding his superior quite
unable to answer them, would be under the
necessity of providing the replies himself, which
he invariably did.

It was one of Mr. Lethwaite's most remarkable