rms.

He saw another woman stretching her arms to the man who leaned above
her. He saw the movement of her hands--hands of the same texture and
whiteness as her body, instinct with its impulses. A long procession
of abominations passed through the white arch of her arms--the arch
she raised in triumph and defiance, immortalizing her sin.

He was very tender with Phoebe that night, for his heart was wrung
with compunction.

"She's adorable," he said to himself; "but I can't live with
_that_."

Gibson left by the early train next day. He went without saying
good-bye and without leaving an explanation or an address.

Phoebe held her head high, and said, day after day, "There's sure
to be a letter."

Three weeks passed and no letter came. Phoebe saw that it was all
over.

One day she was found (Effie found her) on her bed, crying. She was
so weak she let Effie take her in her arms.

"If I only knew what I had done," she said. "Oh, Effie! what could
have made him go away?"

"I can't tell, my lamb. You mustn't think about him any more."

"I can't help thinking. You see, it's not as if he hadn't been so
nice."

"He couldn't have been nice to treat you that way."

"He didn't," said Phoebe fiercely. "He didn't treat me any way. I
sometimes think I must have made it all up out of my own head. Did
I?"

"No, no. I'm sure you didn't."

"It would have been awful of me. But I'd rather be awful than have
to think that he was. What is my worst fault, Effie?"

"Your worst fault, in his eyes, is that you have none."

Phoebe sat up on the edge of the bed. She was thinking hard. And
as she thought her hand went up, caressing unconsciously the little
brown curl.

"If I only knew," said she, "what I had done!"

Gibson never saw Phoebe Richardson again. But a year later, as he
turned suddenly on to the esplanade of a strange watering-place, he
encountered the bath-chair, drawn by Effie and another lady. He
made way, lifting his cap mechanically to its occupant.

The General looked at him. The courteous old hand checked itself in
the salute. The affable smile died grimly.

Effie turned away her head. The other lady (it must have been
"Mary") raised her eyes in somber curiosity.

Phoebe was not with them. Gibson supposed that she was away
somewhere, recovering, in her turn.

WILKINSON'S WIFE

I

Nobody ever understood why he married her.

You expected calamity to pursue Wilkinson--it always had pursued