gracious wife; he had been so joyous in planning for the lovely
times Alice was to have,--the social successes, the girlish triumphs,
the garrison gayeties of which she was to be the queen,--and now, so
very, very soon, all had turned to ashes and desolation! She _was_ so
beautiful, so sweet, winning, graceful. Oh, God! _could_ it be that one
so gifted could possibly be so base? He rose in nervous misery and
clinched his hands high in air, then sat down again with hiding,
hopeless face, rocking to and fro as sways a man in mortal pain. It was
long before he rallied and again wearily arose. Most of the lights were
gone; silence had settled down upon the sleeping point; he was chilled
with the night air and the dew, and stiff and heavy as he tried to walk.
Down at the foot of the stairs he could see the night-watchman making
his rounds. He did not want to explain matters and talk with him: he
would go around. There was a steep pathway down into the ravine that
gave into the lake just beyond his sister's cottage, and this he sought
and followed, moving slowly and painfully, but finally reaching the
grassy level of the pathway that connected the cottages with the
wood-road up the bluff. Trees and shrubbery were thick on both sides,
and the path was shaded. He turned to his right, and came down until
once more he was in sight of the white walls of the hotel standing out
there on the point, until close at hand he could see the light of his
own cottage glimmering like faithful beacon through the trees; and then
he stopped short.

A tall, slender figure--a man in dark, snug-fitting clothing--was
creeping stealthily up to the cottage window.

The colonel held his breath: his heart thumped violently: he
waited,--watched. He saw the dark figure reach the blinds; he saw them
slowly, softly turned, and the faint light gleaming from within; he saw
the figure peering in between the slats, and then--God! was it
possible?--a low voice, a man's voice, whispering or hoarsely murmuring
a name: he heard a sudden movement within the room, as though the
occupant had heard and were replying, "Coming." His blood froze: it was
not Alice's room: it was his,--his and hers--his wife's,--and that was
surely her step approaching the window. Yes, the blind was quickly
opened. A white-robed figure stood at the casement. He could see, hear,
bear no more: with one mad rush he sprang from his lair and hurled
himself upon the shadowy stranger.

"You hou