ren't going away with him."

A slight shudder passed through Evelyn's face, and she asked, "Where
is Ulick?"

"He has gone away. If he had stayed he would have lost his post as
secretary to the opera company."

Evelyn did not appear to hear the explanation, and it was some time
before she said:

"He has gone away. I don't think we shall see much of him again,
either you or I, Owen."

Owen did not resist asking if she regretted this, and she answered
that she did not regret it at all. "And now you understand, Owen,
what kind of woman I am; how hopeless everything is." In spite of
herself, a little trace of her old wit returning to her, she added,
"You see what an unfortunate man you are in your choice of a
mistress."

Owen could not answer; and a moment after he remembered that it is
only those who feel as deeply as Evelyn who can speak as lightly,
otherwise they would not be able to resist the strain; and the
strain was a very terrible one, he could see that, for she turned
over in bed, and a little later he perceived that she had been
crying. Turning suddenly, she exclaimed:

"Owen, Owen, I am very frightened!"

"Frightened of what, dear one?"

"I don't know, Owen, I can't tell you; but I am very frightened, for
he seems not to be very far away and may come again."

"And who is 'he'?"

"It is impossible to tell you--a darkness, a shadow that seems always
by me, and who was very near me last night. A little more chloral
and I should not be here talking to you!"

"It is terrible, Evelyn, terrible! And how should I have lived?"

"You lived before me and you will live after me. Suicide is a mortal
sin, so Monsignor would tell me. We are forbidden to kill ourselves
even to escape sin, and that seems strange; for how shall I ever
believe that God would not have forgiven me, that he would not have
preferred me to kill myself than to have--?" And her voice died
away, Owen wondered whether for lack of strength or unwillingness to
express herself in words.

"My dear Evelyn! my dear Evelyn!"

"You don't understand, Owen; I am so different from what I was once.
I know it, I feel it, the difference, and it can't be helped."

"But it can be helped, Evelyn. You've been living by yourself,
spending whole days and nights alone, and you've been suffering from
want of sleep--something had to happen; but now that it has happened
you will get quite well, and if you had only done what I asked you
before--if we had bee