longer with Mrs. Hart; so about ten o'clock
I left her reading, and went to take half an
hour's rest in my chamber, which, as I have
explained, was divided from the salon by a
small boudoir or dressing-room. The only
other entrance was from a door near the
head of my bed, which I went and locked.

It seemed uncourteous to retire for the
night; so I merely threw a dressing-gown
over my evening toilette, and lay down outside
the bed, dreamily watching the shadows
which the lamp threw. This lamp was in
my chamber; but its light extended faintly
into the boudoir, showing the tall mirror
there, and a sofa which was placed opposite.
Otherwise, the little room was dusky, save
for a narrow glint streaming through the not
quite closed door of the salon.

I lay broad awake, but very quiet, contented,
and serene. I was thinking of Alexis.
In the midst of my reverie, I heard, as I
thought, my maid trying the handle of the
door behind me.

"It is locked," I said;  " another time."

The sound ceased; yet I almost thought
she had opened the door, for there came a
rift of wind, which made the lamp sway in
its socket. But when I looked, the door was
closely shut, and the bolt still fast.

I lay, it might be, half an hour longer.
Then, with a certain compunction at my
discourtesy, I saw the salon door open, and
Mrs. Hart appear.

She looked in, drew back hurriedly, and
closed the door after her.

Of course I immediately rose to follow her.
Ere doing so, I remember particularly standing
with the lamp in my hand, arranging my
dress before the mirror in the boudoir, and
seeing reflected in the glass, with my cashmere
lying over its cushions, the sofa, unoccupied.

Eliza was standing thoughtfully by the stove.

"I ought to ask pardon of you, my dear
Mrs. Hart."

"Oh, no, — but I of you. I did not know
Mr. Saltram had returned. Where is my
husband?"

"With mine, no doubt! We need not
expect them for an hour yet, the renegades."

"You are jesting," said Mrs. Hart, half
offended. " I know they are come home. I
saw Mr. Saltram in your boudoir not two
minutes since."

"How?"

"In your boudoir, I repeat. He was lying
on the sofa."

' Impossible! " and I burst out laughing.
"Unless he has suddenly turned into a
cashmere shawl. Come and look."

I flung the folding doors open, and poured
a blaze of light into the little room.

"It is very odd,"  fidgetted Mrs. Hart;
"very odd, indeed. I am sure I saw a gentleman
here. His face was turned aside, —
but of course I concluded it was Mr. Saltram.
Very odd, indeed."

I still laughed at her, though an uneasy
feeling was creeping over me. To dismiss it,
I showed her how the door was fastened, and
how it was impossible my husband could have
entered.

"No; for I distinctly heard you say, ' It is
locked— another time.' What did you mean
by another time?"

"I thought it was Fanchon."

To change the subject I began showing
her some parures my husband had just
bought me. Eliza Hart was very fond of
jewels. We remained looking at them some
time longer, and then she bade me good
night.

"No light, thank you. I can find my way.
The boudoir is not dark. Good night. Do
not look so pale to-morrow, my dear."

She kissed me in the friendly English
fashion, and we parted.

She went through rapidly, shutting my
bed-room door. A minute afterwards she
re-appeared, breathless, covered with angry
blushes.

"Mrs, Saltram, you have deceived me!
You are a wicked French woman."

"Madam!"

"You know it, — you knew it all along. I
will go and seek my husband. He will not
let me stay another night in your house!"

"As you will," — for I was sick of her
follies.  " But, explain yourself."

"Have you no shame?  Have you foreign
women never any shame?  But I have found
you out at last."

"Indeed!"

"There is — I have seen him twice with my
own eyes — there is a man lying this minute
in your boudoir, — and he is — not Mr. Saltram!"

Then, indeed, I sickened, — A deadly horror
came over me. No wonder the young thing,
convinced of my guilt, fled from me, appalled.

For, I knew now whom she had seen.

Hour after hour I must have lain where I
fell. There was some coufusion in the house
— no one came near me. It was early daylight
when I woke and saw Fanchon leaning over
me, and trying to lift me from the floor.

"Fanchon, — is it morning?"

"Yes, Madame."

"What day is it?"

"The twenty-sixth of May."

It had been he, then. He followed us still.

Shudder after shudder convulsed me. I
think Fanchon thought I was dying.

"Oh, Madame!  oh, poor Madame! And
Monsieur not yet come home."

I uttered a horrible cry — for my soul foreboded
what either had been, or would be.

Alexis never came home again.

An hour after, I was sent for to the little
woodcutter's hut, where he lay dying.

My noble husband had in him but one thing
lacking — his passions were " not in his hand.',
When Colonel Hart, on the clear testimony of