and flushed, then suddenly grew white.
"Outrageous!" he exclaimed. Then tenderly, "My poor darling! that they
should dare to drag your name into this abominable campaign!"

"And for no reason," she faltered; "there is nothing wrong with me. You
believe that; you are sure of that," she cried. I saw the article later.
It ran something like this:

"Rumor has it that not even our genial mayor's closet is free from the
proverbial skeleton. Mrs. Packard's health is not what it was,--and some
say that the causes are not purely physical."

He tried to dissimulate. Putting his arm about her, he kissed her fondly
and protested with mingled energy and feeling:

"I believe you to be all you should be--a true woman and true wife."

Her face lighted and she clung for a moment in passionate delight to his
breast; then she caught his look, which was tender but not altogether
open, and the shadows fell again as she murmured:

"You are not satisfied. Oh, what do you see, what do others see, that I
should be the subject of doubt? Tell me! I can never right myself till I
know."

"I see a troubled face when I should see a happy one," he answered
lightly; then, as she still clung in very evident question to his arm,
he observed gravely: "Two weeks ago you were the life of this house, and
of every other house into which your duties carried you. Why shouldn't
you be the same to-day? Answer me that, dear, and all my doubts will
vanish, I assure you."

"Henry,"--drooping her head and lacing her fingers in and out with
nervous hesitation,--"you will think me very foolish,--I know that it
will sound foolish, childish even, and utterly ridiculous; but I can
explain myself no other way. I have had a frightful experience--here--in
my own house--on the spot where I have been so happy, so unthinkingly
happy. Henry--do not laugh--it is real, very real, to me. The specter
which is said to haunt these walls has revealed itself to me. I have
seen the ghost."

CHAPTER IX. SCRAPS

We did not laugh; we did not even question her sanity; at least I did
not; there was too much meaning in her manner.

"A specter," her husband repeated with a suggestive glance at the
brilliant sunshine in which we all stood.

"Yes." The tone was one of utter conviction. "I had never believed in
such things--never thought about them, but--it was a week ago--in the
library--I have not seen a happy moment since--"

"My darling!"

"Yes, yes, I know; but imagi