they sauntered lazily on; and Du Meresq, who had travelled in all sorts
of strange out-of-the way places, described weirder scenes in other
lands, and pictured a fuller, more vivid life than she in her routine
existence had dreamed of.

Bertie was always all in all to the woman he was with, provided no other
was present; and Cecil, young, and full of sympathy and intelligence, was
a delightful companion. His appreciation, felt and expressed, of her
quickness of comprehension was most agreeable flattery; the more so as he
confided in her so fully, even consulting her about his own private
affairs, for he was very hard pressed at this time, and she, who had
never known the want of money, took the deepest interest in it all.

He seemed never able to bear her out of his sight. If she played, he
was hanging over the piano; if he had letters to write, Cecil must do
it from his dictation; and yet he would avow sometimes before her such
extravagant adoration for some pretty girl, that Cecil, chilled and
surprised, would feel more than ever doubtful of her own influence;
and the honeyed words she had treasured up, faded away as void of
significance. And then one day,--suddenly,--on her return from a
croquet-party, she heard he had received a telegram, and gone, leaving
a careless message of adieu.

Poor Cecil! with the instinct of the wounded animal to its lair, she
rushed to her own room, locked the door, and walked about in a tearless
abandonment of grief, disappointment, and surprise. How could he leave
her without one word? She felt half stunned, and her brain seemed capable
of only the dull reiteration that "Bertie was gone." Tears welled up to
her eyes then, when the sound of the first dinner-bell drove them back.
She felt she must battle alone with this strange affliction; and trying