She felt half frightened.

“Edward,” she said softly, and put out her hand to feel for him.

He was not there.  She sprang from the bed and groped her way into the dressing-room.

There the moon shone in, and by its light she perceived the form of her husband stretched upon a couch, while the sound of his breathing told her that he slept.

She crept back to her bed, and lay down upon it with such a sense of utter loneliness as she had never known before.

“Oh,” she moaned to herself, “he hates me, he hates me! he wouldn’t even lie down beside me! he will never love me any more.”

She wept a long while, but at last fell into a profound sleep.

When she next awoke day had dawned, but it was earlier than their usual hour for rising.

The first object that met her gaze was Edward’s untouched pillow, and the sight instantly brought back the events of the previous day and night.

Her first emotion was resentment toward her husband, but better thoughts succeeded.  She loved him dearly, and for the sake of peace she would humble herself a little.  She would go and wake him with a kiss, and say she was sorry to have vexed him, and if he’d only be kind and not order her, she wouldn’t do so any more.

She slipped out of bed, stole noiselessly to the door of the dressing-room, and looked in.

He was not there, and the room was in great disorder, closet and wardrobe doors and bureau drawers open and things scattered here and there, as if he had made a hasty selection of garments, tossing aside such as he did not want.

As Zoe gazed about in wonder and surprise, the sound of wheels caught her ear.

She ran to a window overlooking a side entrance, and dropped on her knees before it to look and listen without danger of being seen.

There stood the family carriage.  Edward was in the act of handing Miss Fleming into it; Miss Deane followed, and he stepped in after her, only pausing a moment with his foot upon the step to turn and answer a question from his mother.

“How long do you expect to be gone, Edward?” Elsie asked.

“Probably a week or ten days, mother,” he replied.  “Good-by,” and in another instant the carriage rolled away.

Zoe felt stunned, bewildered, as she knelt there leaning her head against the window frame and watched it till it was out of sight.

“Gone!” she said aloud; “gone without one word of good-by to me, without telling me he was going, without saying he was sorry for his cruel words last night, and with Miss Deane.  Oh, I know now that he hates me and will never, never love me again!”

Bitter, scalding tears streamed from her eyes.  She rose presently and began mechanically picking up and putting away his clothes, then made her usual neat toilet, stopping every now and then to wipe away her tears, for she was crying all the time.