CHAPTER XVI.
"O jealousy! thou merciless destroyer, More cruel than the grave! what ravages Does thy wild war make in the noblest bosoms!" -- Mullet.
Edward stretched himself beside Zoe, but not to sleep for hours, for ever and anon she drew a sobbing breath that went to his very heart.
"Poor little thing!" he sighed, "I must have acted like a brute to grieve her so deeply, I should not have undertaken the care of a child who I knew had been spoiled by unlimited petting and indulgence, if I could not be more forbearing and tender with her.

If, instead of a show of authority, I had tried reasoning and coaxing, doubtless the result would have been very different, and she would have been saved all this.

I am ashamed of myself! Grandpa might possibly have acted so toward a wife, but my father never, I am sure." He was really very fond of his little wife, loving her with a protecting love as something peculiarly his own, to be guided and moulded to suit his ideas and wishes, so that she might eventually become the perfectly congenial companion, capable of understanding and sympathizing in all his views and feelings, which he desired, but found that she was not yet.
He began to fear she might never attain to that; that perhaps his sudden marriage was a mistake that would ruin the happiness of both for life.
Tormented thus, he turned restlessly on his pillow with many a groan and sigh, nor closed an eye in sleep till long past midnight.
He was sleeping very soundly when, about sunrise, Zoe opened her eyes.
She lay still for a moment listening to his breathing, while memory recalled what had passed between them previous to her retiring.
"And there he lies and sleeps just as soundly as if he hadn't been playing the tyrant to the woman he promised to love and cherish to life's end," she said to herself, with a flash of anger and scorn in her eyes.

"Well, I don't mean to be here when he wakes; I'll keep out of his way till he's had his breakfast; for they say men are always savage on an empty stomach." She slipped cautiously out of the bed, stole quietly into the next room, made her toilet, arraying herself in riding habit and hat, went down-stairs, ordered her pony saddled and brought to the door, and was presently galloping away down the avenue.
Edward had requested her never to go alone, always to take a servant as an attendant, even if she had one of the children with her, and especially if she had not; but she disregarded his wishes in this instance, partly from a spirit of defiance, partly because she much preferred a solitary ride, and could not see that there was any danger in it.
It was a bright spring morning, the air just cold enough to be delightfully bracing; men were at work in the fields, orchards were full of bloom and fragrance, forest trees leafing out, and springing grass and flowers making the roadsides lovely.
Zoe's spirits rose with every mile she travelled, the perfume of flowers, the songs of birds, and all the sweet sights and sounds of nature that greeted eye, and ear, and every sense, filled her with joy.

How could she, so young and full of life and health, be unhappy in so beautiful a world?
So keen was her enjoyment that she rode farther than she had intended.
Time passed so quickly that, on looking at her watch, she was surprised to find that she would hardly be able, even at a gallop, to reach Ion by the breakfast hour.
She was a little disturbed at that, for everybody was expected to be punctual at meals.