n, and continued:

"My brother's failing health, as well as Hatty's, prevented them from
suspecting what was going on, and when at last we went to Italy they had
no idea that Genevra was my wife. At Rome her beautiful face attracted
much attention from tourists and residents, among whom were a few young
men, who, looking upon her as Jamie's nurse, or at most a companion for
his mother, made no attempt to disguise their admiration. For this I had
no redress except in an open avowal of the relation in which I stood to
her, and this I could not then do, for the longer it was deferred the
harder I found it to acknowledge her my wife. I loved her devotedly, and
that perhaps was one great cause of the jealousy which began to spring
up and embitter my life.

"I do not believe that Genevra was at heart a coquette. She was very
fond of admiration, but when she saw how much I was disturbed she
made an effort to avoid those who flattered her, but her manner was
unfortunate, while her voice--the sweetest I ever heard--was calculated
to invite rather than repel attention. As the empress of the world, she
would have won and kept the homage of mankind, from the humblest beggar
in the street to the king upon the throne, and had I been older I should
have been proud of what then was my greatest annoyance. But I was
young--a mere boy--and so I watched her jealously, until a new element
of disquiet was presented to me in the shape of a ruffianly looking
fellow, who was frequently seen about the premises, and with whom I once
found Genevra in close converse, starting and blushing guiltily when I
came upon her, while her companion went swiftly from my sight.

"'It was an old English acquaintance, who was poor and asking charity,'
she said, when questioned, but her manner led me to think there was
something wrong, particularly as I saw her with him again, and thought
she held his hand.

"It was evident that my brother would never see America again, and at
his request my mother came to us, in company with a family from Boston,
reaching us two weeks before he died. From the first, she disliked
Genevra, suspecting the liking between us, but never dreaming of the
truth until a week after Jack's death, when in a fit of anger at Genevra
for listening to an English artist, who had asked to paint her picture,
the story of the marriage came out, and like a child dependent on its
mother for advice, I asked, 'What shall I do?'

"You know mother, K