and walking up and down the room. My one relief was afforded by
Traveler--he begged so hard to go to London with me, I could not resist
him. The dog always sleeps in my room. His surprise at my extraordinary
restlessness (ending in downright anxiety and alarm) was expressed in
his eyes, and in his little whinings and cries, quite as intelligibly
as if he had put his meaning into words. Who first called a dog a dumb
creature? It must have been a man, I think--and a thoroughly unlovable
man, too, from a dog's point of view.

Soon after ten, on the morning of the 28th, she entered my sitting-room.

In her personal appearance, I saw a change for the worse: produced, I
suppose, by the troubles that have tried her sorely, poor thing.
There was a sad loss of delicacy in her features, and of purity in her
complexion. Even her dress--I should certainly not have noticed it in
any other woman--seemed to be loose and slovenly. In the agitation of
the moment, I forgot the long estrangement between us; I half lifted my
hand to take hers, and checked myself. Was I mistaken in supposing that
she yielded to the same impulse, and resisted it as I did? She concealed
her embarrassment, if she felt any, by patting the dog.

"I am ashamed that you should have taken the journey to London in this
wintry weather--" she began.

It was impossible, in her situation, to let her assume this commonplace
tone with me. "I sincerely feel for you," I said, "and sincerely wish to
help you, if I can."

She looked at me for the first time. Did she believe me? or did she
still doubt? Before I could decide, she took a letter from her pocket,
opened it, and handed it to me.

"Women often exaggerate their troubles," she said. "It is perhaps an
unfair trial of your patience--but I should like you to satisfy yourself
that I have not made the worst of my situation. That letter will place
it before you in Mr. Romayne's own words. Read it, except where the page
is turned down."

It was her husband's letter of farewell.

The language was scrupulously delicate and considerate. But to my
mind it entirely failed to disguise the fanatical cruelty of the man's
resolution, addressed to his wife. In substance, it came to this:--

"He had discovered the marriage at Brussels, which she had deliberately
concealed from him when he took her for his wife. She had afterward
persisted in that concealment, under circumstances which made it
impossible that he could ever tru