two persons bent on one another may be half imagined: it
can never be described.

Griffith spoke first. "In black!" said he, in a whisper.

His voice was low; his face, though pale and grim, had not the terrible
aspect he wore at parting.

So she thought he had come back in an amicable spirit; and she flew to
him, with a cry of love, and threw her arm round his neck, and panted on
his shoulder.

At this reception, and the tremulous contact of one he had loved so
dearly, a strange shudder ran through his frame,--a shudder that marked
his present repugnance, yet indicated her latent power.

He himself felt he had betrayed some weakness; and it was all the worse
for her. He caught her wrist and put her from him, not roughly, but with
a look of horror. "The day is gone by for that, madam," he gasped. Then,
sternly: "Think you I came here to play the credulous husband?"

Mrs. Gaunt drew back in her turn, and faltered out, "What! come back
here, and not sorry for what you have done? not the least sorry? O my
heart! you have almost broken it."

"Prithee, no more of this," said Griffith, sternly. "You and I are
naught to one another now, and forever. But there, you are but a woman,
and I did not come to quarrel with you." And he fixed his eyes on the
ground.

"Thank God for that," faltered Mrs. Gaunt. "O sir, the sight of you--the
thought of what you were to me once--till jealousy blinded you. Lend me
your arm, if you are a man; my limbs do fail me."

The shock had been too much; a pallor overspread her lovely features,
her knees knocked together, and she was tottering like some tender tree
cut down, when Griffith, who, with all his faults, was a man, put out
his strong arm, and she clung to it, quivering all over, and weeping
hysterically.

That little hand, with its little feminine clutch, trembling on his arm,
raised a certain male compassion for her piteous condition; and he
bestowed a few cold, sad words of encouragement on her. "Come, come,"
said he, gently; "I shall not trouble you long. I'm cured of my
jealousy. 'T is gone, along with my love. You and your saintly sinner
are safe from me. I am come hither for my own, my two thousand pounds,
and for nothing more."

"Ah! you are come back for money, not for me?" she murmured, with forced
calmness.

"For money, and not for you, of course," said he, coldly.

The words were hardly out of his mouth, when the proud lady flung his
arm from her. "Then money sha