deep color near her heart--a
red rose, as red as blood. It was pinned there with a diamond pin that
flashed in the moonlight. I thought wildly, that instead of that rose,
there should be blood indeed--instead of a diamond pin there should be
the good steel of a straight dagger! But I had no weapon--I stared at
her, dry-eyed and mute. She looked lovely--exquisitely lovely! No trace
of grief marred the fairness of her face--her eyes were as languidly
limpid and tender as ever--her lips were parted in the child-like smile
that was so sweet--so innocently trustful! She spoke--ah, Heaven! the
old bewitching music of her low voice made my heart leap and my brain
reel.

"You foolish Guido!" she said, in dreamily amused accents. "What would
have happened, I wonder, if Fabio had not died so opportunely."

I waited eagerly for the answer. Guido laughed lightly.

"He would never have discovered anything. You were too clever for him,
piccinina! Besides, his conceit saved him--he had so good an opinion of
himself that he would not have deemed it possible for you to care for
any other man."

My wife--flawless diamond-pearl of pure womanhood!--sighed half
restlessly.

"I am glad he is dead!" she murmured; "but, Guido mio, you are
imprudent. You cannot visit me now so often--the servants will talk!
Then I must go into mourning for at least six months--and there are
many other things to consider."

Guide's hand played with the jeweled necklace she wore--he bent and
kissed the place where its central pendant rested. Again--again, good
sir, I pray you! Let no faint scruples interfere with your rightful
enjoyment! Cover the white flesh with caresses--it is public property!
a dozen kisses more or less will not signify! So I madly thought as I
crouched among the trees--the tigerish wrath within me making the blood
beat in my head like a hundred hammer-strokes.

"Nay then, my love," he replied to her, "it is almost a pity Fabio is
dead! While he lived he played an excellent part as a screen--he was an
unconscious, but veritable duenna of propriety for both of us, as no
one else could be!"

The boughs that covered me creaked and rustled. My wife started, and
looked uneasily round her.

"Hush!" she said, nervously. "He was buried only yesterday--and they
say there are ghosts sometimes. This avenue, too--I wish we had not
come here--it was his favorite walk. Besides," she added, with a slight
accent of regret, "after all he was the f