He turned to go without a word. He had reached the door. All at once
he turned back, caught her in his arms almost fiercely, and kissed her
again and again.

"Good-by," he said, "my wife, my love--good-by."

His vehemence frightened her. She released herself and looked at him,
her heart fluttering. A second time he walked to the door--a second
time he paused. Something seemed to stay his feet on the threshold.

"You will think me foolish, Ethel," he said, with a forced laugh; "but
I seem afraid to leave you to-night. Nervous folly, I suppose; but
take care of yourself, my darling, until I return. I shall be back at
the earliest possible moment."

Then he was gone.

She crossed over to the low French window, standing wide open, and
looked after him wistfully.

"Dear Victor," she thought, "how fond he is of me, after all."

The moon was shining brightly now, though the day still lingered. She
stood and watched him out of sight. Once, as he rode away, he turned
back--she kissed and waved her hand to him with a smile.

"Poor Victor!" she thought again, "he loves me so dearly that I ought
to forgive him everything. How happy we might be here together, if it
were not for that horrible brother and sister. I wish--I wish he would
send her away."