ful music of "The Haven of Memory," and a note of
wistful appeal, not all of art, added a new depth to the exquisite voice.

How once your love
But crowned and blessed me only,
Long and long ago.

The refrain died into silence, and Diana, looking up, found Max's
piercing blue eyes fixed upon her. He was not asleep, then, after all.

He smiled slightly as their glances met.

"Do you remember I once told you I thought 'The Hell of Memory' would be
a more appropriate title? . . . I was quite right."

"Max--" Diana's voice quavered and broke.

A sudden eager light sprang into his face. Swiftly he same to her side
and stood looking down at her.

"Diana," he said tensely, "must it always remain--the hell of memory?"

They were very near to each other in that moment; the great wall
fashioned of jealousy and distrust was tottering to its foundations.

And then, from the street below came the high-pitched, raucous sound of
the newsboy's voice:--

"_Attempted Murder of Miss Adrian Jervis! Premier Theatre Besieged._"

The words, with their deadly import, cut between husband and wife like a
sword.

"Good God!" The exclamation burst from Max with a cry of horror. In an
instant he was out of the room, down the stairs, and running bareheaded
along the street in pursuit of the newsboy, and a few seconds later he
was back with a newspaper, damp from the press, in his hands.

Diana had remained sitting just as he had left her. She felt numbed.
The look of dread and consternation that had leaped into her husband's
face, as the news came shrilling up from the street below, had told her,
more eloquently than any words could do, how absolutely his life was
bound up in that of Adrienne de Gervais. A man whose heart's desire has
been suddenly snatched from him might look so; no other.

Max, oblivious of everything else, was reading the brief newspaper
account at lightning speed. At last--

"I must go!" he said. "I must go round to Somervell Street at once."

When he had gone, Diana picked up the newspaper from the floor where he
had tossed it, and smoothing out its crumpled sheet, proceeded to read
the short paragraph, surmounted by staring head-lines, which had sent her
husband hurrying hot-foot to Adrienne's house.

"MURDEROUS ATTACK ON MISS ADRIENNE DE GERVAIS.

"As Miss Adrienne de Gervais, the popular actress, was leaving the
Premier Theatre after the matinee performance to-day, a man rushed o