f me with your own lips."

She looked up at him for the first time, and then, he stooped and kissed
her.

* * * * *

The Woman in White

Wilkie Collins' greatest success was achieved on the
appearance of "The Woman in White" in 1860, a story described
by Thackeray as "thrilling." The book attracted immediate
attention, Collins' method of unravelling an intricate plot by
a succession of narratives being distinctly novel, and
appealing immensely to the reading public.

_I.--The Woman Appears_

_The story here presented will be told by several pens. Let Walter
Hartright, teacher of drawing, aged twenty-eight, be heard first_.

I had once saved Professor Pesca from drowning, and in his desire to do
"a good something for Walter," the warm-hearted little Italian secured
me the position of art-master at Limmeridge House, Cumberland.

It was the night before my departure to take up my duties as teacher to
Miss Laura Fairlie and her half-sister, Miss Marian Halcombe, and
general assistant to Frederick Fairlie, uncle and guardian to Miss
Fairlie. Having bidden good-bye to my mother and sister at their cottage
in Hampstead, I decided to walk home to my chambers the longest possible
way round. In the after-warmth of the hot July day I made my way across
the darkened Heath. Suddenly I was startled by a hand laid lightly on my
shoulder. I turned to see the figure of a solitary woman, with a
colourless youthful face, dressed from head to foot in white garments.

"Is that the road to London?" she said.

Her sudden appearance, her extraordinary dress, and the strained tones
of her voice so surprised me that I hesitated some moments before
replying. Her agitation at my silence was distressing, and calming her
as well as I could, and promising to help her to get a cab, I asked her
a few questions. Her answers showed that she was suffering from some
terrible nervous excitement. She asked me if I knew any baronet--any
from Hampshire--and seemed almost absurdly relieved when I assured her I
did not. In the course of our conversation, as we walked towards St.
John's Wood, I discovered a curious circumstance. She knew Limmeridge
House and the Fairlies!

Having found her a cab, I bade her good-bye. As we parted she suddenly
seized my hand and kissed it with overwhelming gratitude. Her conveyance
was hardly out of sight when two men drove past in an open chaise,