Jean, and she
would preen herself, and ask if he were not a proud man to be allowed
the privilege of paying the bill for such a heavenly gown, and they
would laugh and spar, like a couple of happy children, rather than a
staid old married couple, Jean gave a little skip of anticipation even
as she crept to the head of the staircase to listen for Robert's return.
He was due now--this minute! She failed to catch his usual whistle,
but presently the key turned in the latch, and she drew back her head,
not wishing to be seen until the dramatic moment should arrive.

Robert shut the door and advanced a few steps into the hall. He did not
whistle again, which seemed curious, as no wife had appeared to greet
him, neither did he advance towards the carved oak armoire in which he
was used to hang his coat and hat. Jean gathered her skirts round her,
and stretched forward her lovely, laughing face to spy what was
happening. What she saw smote the smile from her lips in a flash of
agonised fear.

Robert had not taken off his hat. He stood still just within the
threshold, in the attitude of a man unable to move a step, the light of
the lamp shilling full on his face--the face of an old man, haggard,
contorted, vacant-eyed.

For one moment Jean stood still, paralysed with horror; at the next the
blood raced through her veins, and her heart swelled within her in an
anguish of love and longing. In the history of the last eight years
Jean had invariably been the one to need pity and help; Robert, the one
to strengthen and console. She had suffered, and he had ministered; she
had despaired, and he had consoled; she had repined, and he had
gallantly borne her burden as well as his own. Until this moment his
strength had made no demand on her weakness. But now, now it had come.
He was in trouble--her Robert--in desperate, aching need, and Jean's
whole being rushed out towards him in a passion of love and longing.
Dropping her skirts, she skimmed down the stairway, scarcely seeming to
touch the ground, so light and swift were her steps. Out of her white
face her eyes gleamed with unnatural light. There was something almost
tigerish in the flame of Jean's love at that moment. Some one had been
cruel to her mate, her man. She must fly to the rescue--hold him safe
in her arms.

"Robert! What is it?"

The vacant eyes looked into hers, those clear, brown eyes, which more
than any other eyes she had ever seen were the windows