she is motionless; now, he proceeds slowly across the street to that
house with the lofty portico, but, slowly or quickly, there she is
close at hand."

"How very odd!" I said; "they never speak."

"Speak! Watch him narrowly, and you will see he never for a single
instant _looks behind him_. Here they come this way, on his return
homewards. You hear the shout from those idle throngs that have just
caught a glimpse of yonder balloon; you see _that_ man never turns,
never pauses, never looks up; he knows who is behind him, and hurries
on. There, he has turned the corner, and, certain as his death, _she_
has vanished in his footsteps. Singular--most singular!" he muttered
to himself half musingly.

"But surely their home reconciles them?"

"They don't live together! On the contrary, I believe, they dwell far
asunder; and we of this neighbourhood, who have seen them for years,
have just as little cause to conclude that they are known personally
to each other as you have, who have only beheld them once or twice."

"But this strange companionship, this existence of attraction and
repulsion, which I have witnessed those two days, it surely does not
always continue. You talk of years"----

"Yes, several years; and during that time the man has not been once
missed from his business, nor ever found pursuing it unwatched or
unattended by that woman, more constant, in truth, than his very
shadow."

"Why, here is mystery and romance with a vengeance! ready made, too,
at one's threshold, without having to seek it out in hall or bower.
'Tis a trifle _low_ to be sure; had it been a shepherd and shepherdess
it _might_ do, but a milkman and a--may I say?--milkmaid."

"I assure you there is no quiz whatever in it. It is just as you see
it and say it--a downright mystery, and one that, perhaps, will never
be cleared up."

"I think the clue, my dear fellow, a very simple one--the woman is
mad."

"Not a bit of it; she is perfectly rational; of intelligence, I am
told, far beyond her apparent station in life--a little reserved, to
be sure."

"Then he is a lunatic, and she his keeper--eh?"

"For that I refer you to the cook, and all of that respectable calling
who transact business with the fellow. If he must be characterized by
any one particular quality, I would say that there is far more of the
villain than the fool about him."

"Pray, be kind enough," I said, "to tell me all you know respecting
this curious Pair. I am re