Scarlet with shame, dumb with conflicting emotions, and utterly deserted
by self-possession, Redmond stood with downcast eyes and agitated mien,
suffering a year's remorse condensed into a moment. A mute gesture was
all the greeting he could offer. Pauline slightly bent her haughty head
as she answered, in a voice frostily sweet, "Your wife mistakes. Pauline
Valary died three weeks ago, and Pauline Laroche rose from her ashes.
Manuel, my schoolmate, Mrs. Redmond; Gilbert you already know."

With the manly presence he could easily assume and which was henceforth
to be his role in public, Manuel bowed courteously to the lady, coldly
to the gentleman, and looked only at his wife. Mrs. Redmond, though
childish, was observant; she glanced from face to face, divined a
mystery, and spoke out at once.

"Then you have met before? Gilbert, you have never told me this."

"It was long ago--in Cuba. I believed they had forgotten me."

"I never forget." And Pauline's eye turned on him with a look he dared
not meet.

Unsilenced by her husband's frown, Mrs. Redmond, intent on pleasing
herself, drew her friend to the seat beside her as she said petulantly,
"Gilbert tells me nothing, and I am constantly discovering things which
might have given me pleasure had he only chosen to be frank. I've spoken
of you often, yet he never betrayed the least knowledge of you, and I
take it very ill of him, because I am sure he has not forgotten you. Sit
here, Pauline, and let me tease you with questions, as I used to do so
long ago. You were always patient with me, and though far more
beautiful, your face is still the same kind one that comforted the