They fixed a time for the morrow, and Bernardine went off with the camera; and meeting Marie on the staircase, confided to her the piece of good fortune which had befallen her.

“See what Herr Allitsen has lent me, Marie!” she said.

Marie raised her hands in astonishment.

“Who would have thought such a thing of Herr Allitsen?” said Marie.  “Why, he does not like lending me a match.”

Bernardine laughed and passed on to her room.

And the Disagreeable Man meanwhile was cutting a new scientific book which had just come from England.  He spent a good deal of money on himself.  He was soon absorbed in this book, and much interested in the diagrams.

Suddenly he looked up to the corner where the old camera had stood, before Bernardine took it away in triumph.

“I hope she won’t hurt that camera,” he said a little uneasily.  “I am half sorry that” . . .

Then a kinder mood took possession of him.

“Well, at least it will keep her from fussing and fretting and thinking.  Still, I hope she won’t hurt it.”

CHAPTER XIII.

A DOMESTIC SCENE.

ONE afternoon when Mrs. Reffold came to say good-bye to her husband before going out for the usual sledge-drive, he surprised her by his unwonted manner.

“Take your cloak off,” he said sharply.  “You cannot go for your drive this afternoon.  You don’t often give up your time to me; you must do so to-day.”

She was so astonished, that she at once laid aside her cloak and hat, and touched the bell.

“Why are you ringing?” Mr. Reffold asked testily.

“To send a message of excuse,” she answered, with provoking cheerfulness.

She scribbled something on a card, and gave it to the servant who answered the bell.

“Now,” she said, with great sweetness of manner.  And she sat down beside him, drew out her fancy-work, and worked away contentedly.  She would have made a charming study of a devoted wife soothing a much-loved husband in his hours of sickness and weariness.

“Do you mind giving up your drive?” he asked.

“Not in the least,” she replied.  “I am rather tired of sledging.”

“You soon get tired of things, Winifred,” he said.

“Yes, I do,” was the answer.  “I am so easily bored.  I am quite tired of this place.”

“You will have to stay here a little longer,” he said, “and then you will be free to go where you choose.  I wish I could die quicker for you, Winifred.”

Mrs. Reffold looked up from her embroidery.

“You will get better soon,” she said.  “You are better.”

“Yes, you’ve helped a good deal to make me better,” he said bitterly.  “You have been a most unselfish person haven’t you?  You have given me every care and attention, haven’t you?”

“You seem to me in a very strange mood to-day,” she said, looking puzzled.  “I don’t understand you.”