had no wish to touch this woman whom he had so lately sworn to
cherish. His eyes devoured her, he shuddered and strove several
times to speak, and though kneeling by her side, he did not reach
forth his hand nor did he let a tear fall on the appealing features
so pathetically turned upward as if to meet his look.

Suddenly he leaped to his feet.

"Must she stay here?" he demanded, looking about for the person most
in authority.

The captain answered by a question:

"How do you account for her being here at all? What explanation
have you, as her husband, to give for this strange suicide of your
wife?"

For reply, Mr. Jeffrey, who was an exceptionally handsome man, drew
forth a small slip of crumpled paper, which he immediately handed
over to the speaker.

"Let her own words explain," said he. "I found this scrap of
writing in our upstairs room when I returned home to-night. She
must have written it just before - before -"

A smothered groan filled up the break, but it did not come from his
lips, which were fixed and set, but from those of the woman who
crouched amongst us. Did he catch this expression of sorrow from
one whose presence he as yet had given no token of recognizing? He
did not seem to. His eye was on the captain, who was slowly reading,