manner and fine freedom of conversation were gone, and the gentleman
who had been fascinated by her wit, intelligence and frank womanly
bearing now felt an almost repellant coldness.

"You cannot feel well, Mrs. Abercrombie," he said. "The air is close
and hot. Let me take you back to the parlors."

She did not reply, nor indeed seem to hear him. Her eyes had become
suddenly arrested by some object a little way off, and were fixed
upon it in a frightened stare. The gentleman turned and saw only her
husband in lively conversation with a lady. He had a glass of wine
in his hand, and was just raising it to his lips.

"Jealous!" was the thought that flashed through his mind. The
position was embarrassing. What could he say? In the next moment
intervening forms hid those of General Abercrombie and his fair
companion. Still as a statue, with eyes that seemed staring into
vacancy, Mrs. Abercrombie remained for some moments, then she drew
her hand within the gentleman's arm and said in a low voice that was
little more than a hoarse whisper:

"Thank you; yes, I will go back to the parlors."

They retired from the room without attracting notice.

"Can I do anything for you?" asked the gentleman as he seated her on
a sofa in one of the bay-windows where she was partially concealed
from observation.

"No, thank you," she answered, with regaining self-control. She then