r hand among
the short, dark curls of his hair, then she said, abruptly:

"Grantley?"

"What is it, dear?"

"I want to ask you something."

"It can't be anything very terrible; you need not hesitate so."

"Only because it sounds foolish!"

"Nothing ever can seem foolish from your lips," he said, softly; and she
blushed like a girl at his praise.

"That woman you--you loved once," she said; "was she dearer to you than
I am?"

Grantley Mellen's face darkened.

"Let me blot out all thought of that time," he exclaimed, passionately;
"I would like to burn out of my soul every trace of those years in which
she had a part. I loved her with the passion of youth--no, Bessie, it
was not a feeling so deep and holy as my love for you, and it is over
for ever."

His face softened, and his voice trembled with a more gentle emotion,
for he thought of that lone grave on the hillside, which he had so
lately seen closed over his first love.

"Then you do love me?" whispered his wife; "you do love me?"

"What a question, darling!"

"Yes, I know it is silly."

"Bessie," he exclaimed, after a moment's thought; "I cannot help the
feeling--you seem changed."

"I--changed, Grantley?"

"It may be my fault; but I feel as if there was a something which kept
us apart--a mystery which I cannot penetrate--a gulf which no effort of
mine can bridge."

She was a little agitated at first, but that passed.

"What mystery could there be?" she asked. "I don't understand you,
Grantley."

"I hardly know what I mean myself. Is it my fault, Elizabeth? Are you
angry still at what I said the night you lost your bracelet?"

She did not stir; she kept the hand he held even from quivering, but the
face he could not see grew white and contracted under a sterner pain.

"Were you angry, Bessie?" he repeated.

"Not angry," she said, in a low voice, hesitating somewhat. "I was hurt
and indignant--you ought to trust me, my husband."

"I do, dearest, I do trust you! Why should I not? There is no secret
between us, Bessie--no mystery--nothing which keeps our hearts asunder!"

She was silent--she was struggling for power to speak, knowing that
every second of hesitation told against her in a way which volumes of
protestation could never counteract.

"There is no such cloud between us?" he said again.

"No, Grantley, no!"

She spoke almost sharply.

"Don't be angry with me, Elizabeth."

"I am not, indeed I am not!"

She was speaking