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your loving such a man as him. It was as though one who had lived on brandy should take himself suddenly to a milk diet, — and enjoy the change! A milk diet is no doubt the best. But men who have lived on brandy can’t make those changes very suddenly. They perish in the attempt.”
    “Not always, George.”
    “It may be done with months of agony; — but there was no such agony with you.”
    “Who can tell?”
    “But you will tell me the cure was made. I thought so, and therefore thought that I should find you changed. I thought that you, who had been all fire, would now have turned yourself into soft-flowing milk and honey, and have become fit for the life in store for you. With such a one I might have travelled from Moscow to Malta without danger. The woman fit to be John Grey’s wife would certainly do me no harm, — could not touch my happiness. I might have loved her once, — might still love the memory of what she had been; but her, in her new form, after her new birth, — such a one as that, Alice, could be nothing to me. Don’t mistake me. I have enough of wisdom in me to know how much better, ay, and happier a woman she might be. It was not that I thought you had descended in the scale; but I gave you credit for virtues which you have not acquired. Alice, that wholesome diet of which I spoke is not your diet. You would starve on it, and perish.”
    He had spoken with great energy, but still in a low voice, having turned full round upon the table, with both his arms upon it, and his face stretched out far over towards her. She was looking full at him; and, as I have said before, that scar and his gloomy eyes and thick eyebrows seemed to make up the whole of his face. But the scar had never been ugly to her. She knew the story, and when he was her lover she had taken pride in the mark of the wound. She looked at him, but though he paused she did not speak. The music of the river was still in her ears, and there came upon her a struggle as though she were striving to understand its song. Were the waters also telling her of the mistake she had made in accepting Mr Grey as her husband? What her cousin was now telling her, — was it not a repetition of words which she had spoken to herself hundreds of times during the last two months? Was she not telling herself daily, — hourly, — always, — in every thought of her life, that in accepting Mr Grey she had assumed herself to be mistress of virtues which she did not possess? Had she not, in truth, rioted upon brandy, till the innocence of milk was unfitted for her? This man now came and rudely told her all this, — but did he not tell her the truth? She sat silent and convicted; only gazing into his face when his speech was done.
    “I have learned this since we have been again together, Alice; and finding you, not the angel I had supposed, finding you to be the same woman I had once loved, — the safety that I anticipated has not fallen to my lot. That’s all. Here’s Kate, and now we’ll go for our walk.”
     
CHAPTER VI
The Bridge over the Rhine
 
    “George,” said Kate, speaking before she quite got up to them, “will you tell me whether you have been preparing all your things for an open sale by auction?” Then she stole a look at Alice, and having learned from that glance that something had occurred which prevented Alice from joining her in her raillery, she went on with it herself rapidly, as though to cover Alice’s confusion, and give her time to rally before they should all move. “Would you believe it? he had three razors laid out on his table — “
    “A man must shave, — even at Basle.”
    “But not with three razors at once; and three hair-brushes, and half a dozen toothbrushes, and a small collection of combs, and four or five little glass bottles, looking as though they contained poison, — all with silver tops. I can only suppose you desired to startle the weak mind of the chambermaid. I have put them all up; but remember