tion, and
for a long time debated with himself whether he should at once tell her
the sickening truth. In the end he decided that it was better to keep
silent. No sooner, however, had she seen him than her woman's instinct
told her that he was labouring under some mental strain. And he saw in a
moment that to withhold from her his burning secret was impossible,
especially when she began to talk of the trip they had planned through
France. Of course no trivial reason would satisfy her for his refusal to
make this trip, since they had been looking forward to it for years; and
yet it was impossible now for him to set foot on French soil.

So he finally told her the whole story, she laughing and weeping in
turn. To her, as to him, it seemed incredible that such overwhelming
disasters could have grown out of so small a cause, and, being a fluent
French scholar, she demanded a sight of the fatal piece of pasteboard.
In vain her husband tried to divert her by proposing a trip through
Italy. She would consent to nothing until she had seen the mysterious
card which Burwell was now convinced he ought long ago to have
destroyed. After refusing for awhile to let her see it, he finally
yielded. But, although he had learned to dread the consequences of
showing that cursed card, he was little prepared for what followed. She
read it turned pale, gasped for breath, and nearly fell to the floor.

"I told you not to read it," he said; and then, growing tender at the
sight of her distress, he took her hand in his and begged her to be
calm. "At least tell me what the thing means," he said. "We can bear it
together; you surely can trust me."

But she, as if stung by rage, pushed him from her and declared, in a
tone such as he had never heard from her before, that never, never again
would she live with him. "You are a monster!" she exclaimed. And those
were the last words he heard from her lips.

Failing utterly in all efforts at reconciliation, the half-crazed man
took the first steamer for New York, having suffered in scarcely a
fortnight more than in all his previous life. His whole pleasure trip
had been ruined, he had failed to consummate important business
arrangements, and now he saw his home broken up and his happiness
ruined. During the voyage he scarcely left his stateroom, but lay there
prostrated with agony. In this black despondency the one thing that
sustained him was the thought of meeting his partner, Jack Evelyth, the
fri