any harm, wrong
or injury. If I hurt another, then you might deprive me of my husband
and my home; as it is, Lance loves me and I love him. You will not tell
him?"

"I will think about it," I replied.

"But I cannot live in this suspense," she cried. "If you will tell him,
tell him this day, this hour."

"He might forgive you," I said.

"No, he would not be angry, he would not reproach me, but he would never
look upon my face again."

"Would it not be better for you to tell him yourself?" I suggested.

"Oh, no!" she cried, with a shudder. "No, I shall never tell him."

"I do not say that I shall," I said. "Give me a few days--only a few
days--and I will decide in my mind all about it."

Then we saw Lance in the distance.

"There is my husband," she said. "Do I look very ill, Mr. Ford?"

"You do, indeed; you look ghastly," I said.

"I will go and meet him," she said.

The exercise and the fresh air brought some little color to her face
before they met. Still he cried out that I had not taken care of her;
that she was overtired.

"That is it," she replied. "I have been over-tired all day: I think my
head aches; I have had a strange sensation of dizziness in it, I am
tired--oh, Lance, I am so tired!"

"I shall not leave you again," said Lance to her, and I fancied he was
not quite pleased with me, and thought I had neglected her. We all three
went home together. Mrs. Fleming did not say much, but she kept up
better than I thought she could have done. I heard her that same evening
express a wish to be driven to Vale Royal on the day following; a young
girl, whom she had been instrumental in saving from ruin, had been
suddenly taken ill, and wanted to see her.

"My darling," Lance said, "you do not seem to me strong enough. Let me
persuade you to rest tomorrow."

"I should like to see Rose Winter again before--before I"--then she
stopped abruptly.

"Before you--what, Frances?" he asked.

"I mean," she said, "that I should like to see Rose before she grows
worse."

"I think you ought to rest, but you shall do as you like, Frances; you
always do. I will drive you over myself."

I saw them start on the following morning, and then I tried to think
over in solitude what it would be best to do. Her story certainly
altered facts very considerably. She was not a murderess, as I had
believed her to be. If the death of the little hapless child was
attributable to an overdose of the cordial, she had certainl