s giving her to ease her pain. And she, weary of
life--life made suddenly hideous to her; all her foolish vanities
killed, her delight in herself, her belief in her friend, her faith in
her husband. The gilding all stripped from the bauble which till then
had made her happy. How possible! Nay, was it possible longer to doubt
it?

And who was responsible? The woman who lay in her place, staring out
into the room which had witnessed that foolish, harmless life, which
had witnessed that tragic death; and the man sleeping beside her. They
two.

Slowly, lest she should disturb him, the Bride raised herself upon her
elbow, looked upon the sleeping face.

It was a face still unfamiliar to her in sleep. The always close-shut
mouth was open, the straight-cut upper lip was strained tightly over
the gums with a look almost of suffering, the eyes and temples looked
as if sunken in pain. Feeling her gaze upon him, the man's lids half
lifted themselves, an incoherent word or two fell from the stretched
lips, the head moved restlessly upon the pillow.

Did he too guess this thing? Did he know?

"If he does he will never tell it to me," the Bride said to herself,
knowing well he would spare her that pain.

In the next moment she was leaning over him, calling him in soft,
distinct tones by his name.

"Love," she said, "do you hear me?"

He moaned, turning upon his back. The heavy jaw came fully into view,
and the too thick throat which in the daytime the tall, close collar
hid. With a light touch she swept the hair which, clinging low over his
brow, so disguised it, backward.

"I hear," he answered in the thick, difficult voice of the sleeper.

"Love, I love you," she said. "Tell me, do you love me?"

A pause; then, "With my soul," he answered heavily.

"And--that other wife? Tell me, love."

The answer had always to be waited for, and seemed to come in unwilling
response to the command of an intelligence afar off.

"Hate--I hated her," the sleeper said.

"She knew it--at last. Did she--did she _kill_ herself? Tell me the
truth, love, as you love me."

No answer but a strangled muttering, a head that moved as if in pain.
The eyes watching him saw that the sleeper was tortured.

"But this once," she said to herself, "I must ask--I will know."

She bent over, without touching him, and put her lips down close to his
ear. "Swear to tell me the truth," she said in her distinct, arresting
whisper.

Long she waited, wa