woman. Caring very little now what her husband or any one else might
think of her eccentricities; she wrote Marchmill a brief note, stating
that she was called away for the afternoon and evening, but would return
on the following morning. This she left on his desk, and having given
the same information to the servants, went out of the house on foot.

When Mr. Marchmill reached home early in the afternoon the servants
looked anxious. The nurse took him privately aside, and hinted that her
mistress's sadness during the past few days had been such that she feared
she had gone out to drown herself. Marchmill reflected. Upon the whole
he thought that she had not done that. Without saying whither he was
bound he also started off, telling them not to sit up for him. He drove
to the railway-station, and took a ticket for Solentsea.

It was dark when he reached the place, though he had come by a fast
train, and he knew that if his wife had preceded him thither it could
only have been by a slower train, arriving not a great while before his
own. The season at Solentsea was now past: the parade was gloomy, and
the flys were few and cheap. He asked the way to the Cemetery, and soon
reached it. The gate was locked, but the keeper let him in, declaring,
however, that there was nobody within the precincts. Although it was not
late, the autumnal darkness had now become intense; and he found some
difficulty in keeping to the serpentine path which led to the quarter
where, as the man had told him, the one or two interments for the day had
taken place. He stepped upon the grass, and, stumbling over some pegs,
stooped now and then to discern if possible a figure against the sky.

He could see none; but lighting on a spot where the soil was trodden,
beheld a crouching object beside a newly made grave. She heard him, and
sprang up.