I will arrange so that you may transfer yourself to one in the first-
class section. . . . No, not a word; it must be as I wish in this.
You are ill; I can do you that kindness at least, and then, by right, you
can attend the ball, and, after it, your being among the first-class
passengers can make little difference; for you will have met and spoken
then, either to peace or otherwise."

I had very grave doubts of any reconciliation; the substance of my
notable conversation with Mrs. Falchion was so prominent in my mind.
I feared she would only reproduce the case of Anson and his wife. I was
also afraid of a possible scene--which showed that I was not yet able to
judge of her resources. After a time, in which we sat silent, I said to
Madras: "But suppose she should be frightened?--should--should make a
scene?"

He raised himself to a sitting posture. "I feel better," he said. Then,
answering my question: "You do not know her quite. She will not stir a
muscle. She has nerve. I have seen her in positions of great peril and
trial. She is not emotional, though I truly think she will wake one day
and find her heart all fire but not for me. Still, I say that all will
be quite comfortable, so far as any demonstration on her part is
concerned. She will not be melodramatic, I do assure you."

"And the disguise--your dress?" inquired I.

He rose from the berth slowly, and, opening a portmanteau, drew from it a
cloth of white and red, fringed with gold. It was of beautiful texture,
and made into the form of a toga or mantle. He said: "I was a seller of
such stuffs in Colombo, and these I brought with me, because I could not
dispose of them without sacrifice when I left hurriedly. I have made