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From watching him and endeavoring to decipher his moods, Angela came to suspect something she could not say what. He did not love her as much as he had. There was a coolness in his caresses which was not there when he left her. What could have happened, she asked herself. Was it just absence, or what?

He pronounced that six weeks at the least, perhaps two months, must elapse before Angela would be able to sit up again. "Her system is full of rheumatism," said her physician. "She is in a very bad way. Rest and quiet, and constant medication will bring her round." Eugene was sorry. He did not want to see her suffer, but her sickness did not for one minute alter his mental attitude.

I turned to join Lady Angela. He did not immediately follow. "Why did you bring him?" I asked her softly. "You had some reason." "He was making inquiries about you," she answered, "secretly and openly. I thought you ought to know, and I could think of no other way of putting you on your guard." "The Prince of Malors!" I murmured. "He surely would not stoop to play the spy."

Flight begged for help from the Nursing Sisterhood at Dearport, and, to her great joy, Sister Beata was sent down to him, with another who was of the same standing as Angela, and delighted to have a glimpse of her; though Angela thought it due to her delicate charge, and the Merrifields, not to plunge into actual nursing while Lena needed her hourly attention, and was not yet in a state for the training to do without it to continue.

Angela had nothing to urge against his suit; and the Councillor the more readily gave his consent that the young composer's productions had found favour before his rigorous critical judgment. Krespel was expecting to hear of the consummation of the marriage, when he received instead a black-sealed envelope addressed in a strange hand.

"You do not think, then," said Arthur, in order to draw her out, "that it is possible, after all, he was right, and that they were something from another place? The reality of his terror was almost enough to make one believe in them, I can tell you." "No, I do not," answered Angela, after a minute's thought.

I said that very likely, and to reciprocate her kindness, Angela must likewise have been her husband, but she answered, with a smile, that Angela played husband only to Nanette, and Nanette could not deny it. "But," said I, "what name did Nanette, in her rapture, give to her husband?" "Nobody knows." "Do you love anyone, Nanette?" "I do; but my secret is my own."

"How sad," said Angela, as they moved homewards. "Yes, and what music that was; I never heard any with such imagination before. You have a turn that way, Angela; you should try to put it into words, it would make a poem." "I complain like the old man, that you set a difficult subject," she said; "but I will try, if you will promise not to laugh at the result."

My husband threatened to leave me destitute, but fear of public opinion and I hear that he has run away, and is not well thought of now or perhaps of myself, cripple as I am, caused him to change his mind. But do not let us talk of that poor creature. I sent for you here for a purpose. Where is your lover?" Angela turned pale and trembled. "What, do you not know, or are you tired of him?"

"Ah, poor girl!" said Angela, springing up from the sofa. "I am perfectly serious," Gordon went on, addressing himself again to her. "No, after all, I am not crazy; I see only too clearly I see what should be; when people see that, you call them crazy. Bernard has no right he must give you up. If you really care for him, you should help him.

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