ide her
mother's chair, leaning against her knee. Her sweet silence charmed him.

He took his accustomed seat, and they sat quietly, while the breeze
puffed little gusts of honeysuckle across their faces. Occasional
neighbors greeted them, strolling past; the newly watered lawns all
along the street sent up a fresh turfy odor; now and then a bird chirped
drowsily. He felt deliriously intimate, peacefully at home. A fine,
subtle sense of _bien-etre_ penetrated his whole soul.

When he rose to go they had hardly exchanged a dozen words. As he held,
her hand closely, half doubting his right, she raised her face to him
simply, and he kissed her white forehead. When he bent over her mother's
hand it was as cold as stone.

Through the long pleasant weeks of the summer they talked and laughed
and drove and sailed together, a happy trio. Mrs. Leroy's listless
quiet of the first few days gave way to a brilliant, fitful gayety that
enchanted the more silent two, and the few hours when she was not with
them seemed incomplete. On his mentioning this to her one afternoon she
shot him a strange glance.

"But this is all wrong," she said abruptly. "What will you do when I am
gone in the winter?"

"What do you mean?" he asked. "Gone where, when, how?"

"My dear colonel," she said lightly, but with an obvious effort, "do
you imagine that I cannot leave you a honeymoon, in spite of my doting
parenthood? I plan to spend the latter part of the winter in New York
with friends. Perhaps by spring--"

"My dear Mrs. Leroy, how absurd! How cruel of you! What will Lady do?
What shall I do? She has never been separated from you in her life. Does
she know of this?"

"No; I shall tell her soon. As for what she will do--she will have her
husband. If that is not enough for her, she should not marry the man who
cannot--"

She stopped suddenly and controlled with great effort a rising emotion
almost too strong for her. Again a deep, inexplicable sympathy welled up
in him. He longed to comfort her, to give her everything she wanted. He
blamed himself and Jane for all the trouble they were causing her.

That afternoon she kept in her room, and he and his fiancee drank
their tea together alone. He was worried by the news of the morning,
dissatisfied out of all proportion, vexed that so sensible and natural
a proposition should leave him so uneasy and disappointed. He had
meant the smooth, quiet life to go on without a break, and now the new
re