For one brief second I thought of tearing
off the lashings and giving him my place;
for I had loved him. But youth and life were
strong within me, and my head was pressed
to Alexis' breast.

A full minute, or it seemed so, was that
face above the water; then I watched it sink
slowly, down, down.

We, and several others, were picked up
from the wreck of the Argo by a homeward-bound
ship. As soon as we reached London
I became Alexis' wife.

That which happened at the theatre was
exactly twelve months after— as we believed
— Anastasius died.

I do not pretend to explain; I doubt if any
reasoning can explain a circumstance so singular
— so impossible to be attributed to either
imagination or illusion. For, as I must again
distinctly state, we saw nothing. The apparition,
or whatever it was, was visible only to
other persons, all total strangers.

I had a fever. When I arose from it, and
things took their natural forms and relations,
this strange occurrence became mingled with
the rest of my delirium, of which my husband
persuaded me it was a part. He took
me abroad — to Italy — Germany. He loved
me dearly! He was, and made me, entirely
happy.

In our happiness we strove to live, not merely
for one another, but for all the world; all who
suffered and had need. We did — nor shrunk
from the doing — many charities which had
first been planned with Anastasius — with
what motives we never knew. While carrying
them out, we learnt to utter his name
without trembling — remembering only that
which was beautiful in him, and which
we had both so worshipped once.

In the furtherance of these schemes of
good, it became advisable that we should go
to Paris, to my former house, which still
remained empty there.

"But not, dear wife, if any uneasiness, or
lingering pain, rests in your mind in seeing
the old spot. For me, I love it! since there
I loved Isbel, before Isbel knew it, long."

So I smiled ; and went to Paris.

My husband proposed, and I was not
sorry, that Colonel Hart and his newly-married
wife should join us there, and
remain as our guests. I shrunk a little from
re-inhabiting the familiar rooms, long shut
up from the light of day; and it was with
comfort I heard my husband arranging that
a portion of the hotel should be made ready
for us, namely, two salons en suite, and
leading out of the farther one of which were
a chamber and dressing-room for our use —
opposite two similar apartments for the
Colonel and his lady.

I am thus minute for reasons that will
appear.

Mrs. Hart had been travelling with us
some weeks.  She was a mild sweet-faced
English girl, who did not much like the
Continent, and was half shocked at some of
my reckless foreign ways, on board
steam-boats and on railways. She said I was
a little — just a little — too free. It might
have seemed so to her; for my southern
blood rushed bright and warm, and my
manner of life in France had completely
obliterated early impressions. Faithful and
tender woman, and true wife, as I was, I
believe I was unlike an English woman
or an English wife, and that Mrs. Hart
thought so.

Once — for being weak of nature and fast
of tongue, she often said things she should
not — there was even some hint of the kind
dropped before my husband. He flashed up
— but laughed the next minute; for I was
his, and he loved me!

Nevertheless, that quick glow of anger
pained me — bringing back the recollection of
many things his uncle had said to me of him,
which I heard as one that heareth not. The
sole saying which remained was one which,
in a measure, I had credited — that his conscience
was in his hand, " but not his
passions."

I knew always — and rather rejoiced in the
knowledge — that Alexis Saltram could not
boast the frozen calm of M. Anastasius.

But I warned tame Eliza Hart, half jestingly,
to take heed, and not lightly blame me
before my husband again.

Reaching Paris, we were all very gay
and sociable together. Colonel Hart was a
grave honourable man; my husband and I
both loved him.

We dined together — a lively partie quarrée.
I shut my eyes to the familiar things about
us. and tried to believe the rooms had echoed
no footsteps save those of Mrs. Hart and the
Colonel's soldierly tread. Once or so, while
silence fell over us, I would start, and feel
my heart beating; but Alexis was near me,
and altogether mine. Therefore, I feared
not, even here.

After coffee, the gentlemen went out to
some evening amusement. We, the weary
wives, contented ourselves with lounging
about, discussing toilettes, and Paris sights,
and the fair Empress Eugénie — the wifely
crown which my old aversion Louis Bonaparte
had chosen to bind about his ugly
brows. Mrs. Hart was anxious to see all,
and then fly back to her beloved London.

"How long is it since you left London,
Mrs. Saltram?"

"A year, I think. What is to-day?"

"The twenty-fifth — no, the twenty-sixth
of May."

I dropped my head on the cushion. Then,
that date — the first she mentioned— had
passed over unthought of by us. That night
— the night of mortal horror when the Argo
went down — lay thus far buried in the past,
parted from us by two blessed years,

But I found it impossible to converse