he sake of that morning on the beach. Now that she is taken from me,
and I finish my pilgrimage alone, I recall our old loving-kindnesses and
the deep honesty and affection which united us, and my present loss
seems but a trifle in comparison.

We may have thus stood for some seconds--for time passes quickly with
lovers--before we were startled by a peal of laughter close at hand. It
was not natural mirth, but seemed to be affected in order to conceal an
angrier feeling. We both turned, though I still kept my left arm about
Clara's waist; nor did she seek to withdraw herself; and there, a few
paces off upon the beach, stood Northmour, his head lowered, his hands
behind his back, his nostrils white with passion.

"Ah! Cassilis!" he said, as I disclosed my face.

"That same," said I; for I was not at all put about.

"And so, Miss Huddlestone," he continued slowly but savagely, "this is
how you keep your faith to your father and to me? This is the value you
set upon your father's life? And you are so infatuated with this young
gentleman that you must brave ruin, and decency, and common human
caution----"

"Miss Huddlestone----" I was beginning to interrupt him, when he, in his
turn, cut in brutally--

"You hold your tongue," said he; "I am speaking to that girl."

"That girl, as you call her, is my wife," said I; and my wife only
leaned a little nearer, so that I knew she had affirmed my words.

"Your what?" he cried. "You lie!"

"Northmour," I said, "we all know you have a bad temper, and I am the
last man to be irritated by words. For all that, I propose that you
speak lower, for I am convinced that we are not alone."

He looked round him, and it was plain my remark had in some degree
sobered his passion. "What do you mean?" he asked.

I only said one word: "Italians."

He swore a round oath, and looked at us, from one to the other.

"Mr. Cassilis knows all that I know," said my wife.

"What I want to know," he broke out, "is where the devil Mr. Cassilis
comes from, and what the devil Mr. Cassilis is doing here. You say you
are married; that I do not believe. If you were, Graden Floe would soon
divorce you; four minutes and a half, Cassilis. I keep my private
cemetery for my friends."

"It took somewhat longer," said I, "for that Italian."

He looked at me for a moment half-daunted, and then, almost civilly,
asked me to tell my story. "You have too much the advantage of me,
Cassilis," he added. I compl