gered in his wife's
room. He said Polly was feeling rather poorly, and Stephen was glad to
see a look of anxiety cross Deena's face; he rightly judged her
thoughts had been diverted from Patagonia to Polly's sofa, and he
breathed once more.

What a pleasant luncheon it was, in spite of the lurking dread. Deena
was wearing the old blue dress he had recommended to her the night
before. It could not be from coquetry--she was above coquetry--but
perhaps she had put it on to recall associations; to remind him of the
close bonds of friendship that existed between them in those pleasant
autumn days that followed Simeon's departure. Stephen was not very
learned in the make of women's frocks, but he understood color and
could appreciate how that steely-blue made her complexion glow warm as
ivory and her hair like copper.

They were pretending to quarrel over a dish of salted almonds; Deena
declared that French was getting the lion's share, and finally covered
the little silver basket that held them with her hand. On the third
finger flashed old Mrs. Ponsonby's diamond in its antiquated silver
setting, and below it was her wedding ring, the narrow band that
symbolized her bondage to Simeon. For the first time since French had
received the cable, its possible significance to him took possession
of his mind, and he flushed a dull red and fell into a reverie.

In all probability there was no longer any barrier between him and the
woman he loved; nothing to prevent his striving to win her, but the
period of her mourning--the respect she owed to the memory of a
husband who was the palest shadow of a lover, and not even the ghost
of a companion. He wondered whether she had ever guessed his
feelings--feelings which he had subdued and held under with all the
strength of his nature, partly through fear of forfeiting her
friendship and partly because her charm was in the simplicity of her
goodness. If love had once been named between them, Deena would have
been other than herself.

Her voice roused him. She was excusing herself in order to go to her
sister, and leave him and Ben to smoke. He held the door open for her
to pass with a profound sense of relief--no suspicion of his awful
secret had been betrayed. But oh! the comfort of talking it over with
Ben, of sharing the burden with another! They discussed the meager
announcement till they had exhausted every probability and found
nothing to hope and everything to fear.

"I hope to