oduction amongst our friends."

"It is true," Rochester answered. "I regret it bitterly. I regret it
more than ever to-day."

"Because of Pauline?" Lady Mary asked.

"Because of Pauline, and for one other reason," Rochester answered,
lowering his voice, and turning a little in his seat towards his wife.
"Mary, I was unfortunate enough to hear a sentence which passed
between you and this person in the hall. I would have shut my ears if
I could, but it was not possible. Am I to understand that you have
made use of him in some way?"

Lady Mary gasped. This was a thunderbolt to descend at her feet
without a second's warning!

"As a matter of fact," she said slowly, "he has done me a service."

Rochester's face darkened.

"I should be interested," he said, "to know the circumstances."

Lady Mary was not a coward, and she realized that there was nothing
for it but the absolute truth. Her husband's eyes were fixed upon her,
filled with an expression which she very seldom saw in them. After
all, she had little enough to fear. Their relations were scarcely such
that he could assume the position of a jealous husband.

"I suppose that you will laugh at me, Henry," she said. "Perhaps you
will be angry. However, one must amuse oneself. Frankly, I think that
all this talk that is going on about occultism, and being able to read
the future, and to find new laws for the government of the will, has
perhaps turned my brain a little. Anyhow, I went to one of those Bond
Street people, and asked them a few questions."

"You mean to one of these crystal-gazers or fortune-tellers?" he
asked.

"Precisely," she answered. "No doubt you think that I am mad, but if
you had any idea of the women in our own set who have done the same
thing, I think you would be astonished. Well, whilst I was there I
chanced to drop, or leave behind--it scarcely concerns you to know
which--a letter written to me by a very dear friend. One of my
perfectly harmless love affairs, you know, Henry, but men do make such
idiots of themselves when they have pen and paper to do it with."

Rochester moved a little uneasily in his place.

"May I inquire----" he began.

"No, I shouldn't!" she interrupted. "You know very well, my dear
Henry, the exact terms upon which we have both found married life
endurable. If I choose to receive foolish letters from foolish men,
it concerns you no more than your silent adoration of Pauline Marrabel
does me. You understand?"