"It is hot still."
"But I seldom take tea," he answered, seating himself by the fire with
an air of weariness which did not escape her.
"That is so much more reason that you should take it now. It will have
more effect. I can see that you are tired out. One lump or two?"
He yielded with a wan smile, and, resuming his seat, sat sipping his
tea in silence for some moments. At length he sighed so heavily that
she asked with a smile:--
"Is it so bad as that?"
"Is what so bad?" he returned, looking at her in surprise.
"You sighed as if all life had fallen in ruins about your feet, and I
couldn't help wondering if there were really no joy left to you."
He smiled rather soberly, and did not at once reply. The fire burned
cheerily on the hearth, noiseless for the most part, but now and then
purring like a cat full of happy content; the shadows showed themselves
more and more boldly in the corners, daring the firelight to chase them
to discover their secrets. The colors of the room were softened into a
dull richness; the dim gilding on the old books which had belonged to
Helen's father, dead since her infancy, caught now and then a gleam
from a tongue of flame which sprang up to peer into the gathering dusk;
the copper tea equipage reflected a red glow, and gave to the picture a
certain suggestion of comfort and cheer.
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