and all drank it with delirious laughter. That very night every one
of the revelers died in horrible agony; their bodies, as usual, were
thrust into flimsy coffins and buried one on top of another in a
hole hastily dug for the purpose. Dismal stories like these reached
us every day, but we were not morbidly impressed by them. Stella was
a living charm against pestilence; her innocent playfulness and
prattle kept us amused and employed, and surrounded us with an
atmosphere that was physically and mentally wholesome.

One morning--one of the very hottest mornings of that scorching
month--I woke at an earlier hour than usual. A suggestion of
possible coolness in the air tempted me to rise and stroll through
the garden. My wife slept soundly at my side. I dressed softly,
without disturbing her. As I was about to leave the room some
instinct made me turn back to look at her once more. How lovely she
was! she smiled in her sleep! My heart beat as I gazed--she had been
mine for three years--mine only!--and my passionate admiration and
love of her had increased in proportion to that length of time. I
raised one of the scattered golden locks that lay shining like a
sunbeam on the pillow, and kissed it tenderly. Then--all unconscious
of my fate--I left her.

A faint breeze greeted me as I sauntered slowly along the garden
walks--a breath of wind scarce strong enough to flutter the leaves,
yet it had a salt savor in it that was refreshing after the tropical
heat of the past night. I was at that time absorbed in the study of
Plato, and as I walked, my mind occupied itself with many high
problems and deep questions suggested by that great teacher. Lost in
a train of profound yet pleasant thought, I strayed on further than
I intended, and found myself at last in a by-path, long disused by