ly would not have pocketed a single diamond, still he could
not help thinking that he might be accused of taking some. "You can
search me, if you like," he said when Mr. Amethyst returned; "but I
assure you, upon the honor of a gentleman, that I have taken nothing."

"Enough, my Lord," said Mr. Amethyst, with a low bow; "we never search
the aristocracy."

CHAPTER VIII.

As Lothaw left Mr. Amethyst's, he ran against General Camperdown. "How
is Mary Ann?" he asked hurriedly.

"I regret to state that she is dying," said the general, with a grave
voice, as he removed his cigar from his lips, and lifted his hat to
Lothaw.

"Dying!" said Lothaw, incredulously.

"Alas, too true!" replied the General. "The engagements of a long
lecturing season, exposure in travelling by railway during the winter,
and the imperfect nourishment afforded by the refreshments along the
road, have told on her delicate frame. But she wants to see you before
she dies. Here is the key of my lodging. I will finish my cigar out
here."

Lothaw hardly recognized those wasted Hellenic outlines as he entered
the dimly lighted room of the dying woman. She was already a classic
ruin,--as wrecked and yet as perfect as the Parthenon. He grasped her
hand silently.

"Open-air speaking twice a week, and saleratus bread in the rural
districts, have brought me to this," she said feebly; "but it is well.
The cause progresses. The tyrant man succumbs."

Lothaw could only press her hand.

"Promise me one thing. Don't--whatever you do--become a Catholic."

"Why?"

"The Church does not recognize divorce. And now embrace me. I would
prefer at this supreme moment to introduce myself to the next world
through the medium of the best society in this. Good by. When I am
dead, be good enough to inform my husband of the fact."

CHAPTER IX.

Lothaw spent the next six months on an Aryan island, in an Aryan
climate, and with an Aryan race.

"This is an Aryan landscape," said his host, "and that is a Mary Ann
statue." It was, in fact, a full-length figure in marble of Mrs.
General Camperdown!

"If you please, I should like to become a Pagan," said Lothaw, one day,
after listening to an impassioned discourse on Greek art from the lips
of his host.

But that night, on consulting a well-known spiritual medium, Lothaw
received a message from the late Mrs. General Camperdown, advising him
to return to England. Two days later he presented himsel