wife might have been happy together yet, but for that one awful shadow of
the past, which she did not know anything about; and he prayed she never
might know.

But after all, it would have been a very moonlight sort of happiness.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

ONCE MORE.

The months rolled on, and Lord and Lady Hartledon did not separate. They
remained together, and were, so far, happy enough--the moonlight
happiness hinted at; and it is as I believe, the best and calmest sort
of happiness for married life. Maude's temper was unequal, and he was
subject to prolonged hours of sadness. But the time went lightly enough
over their heads, for all the world saw, as it goes over the heads of
most people.

And Lord Hartledon was a free man still, and stood well with the world.
Whatever the mysterious accusation brought against him had been, it
produced no noisy effects as yet; in popular phrase, it had come to
nothing. As yet; always as yet. Whether he had shot a man, or robbed a
bank, or fired a church, the incipient accusation died away. But the
fear, let it be of what nature it would, never died away in his mind;
and he lived as a man with a sword suspended over his head. Moreover,
the sword, in his own imagination, was slipping gradually from its
fastenings; his days were restless, his nights sleepless, an inward fever
for ever consumed him.

As none knew better than Thomas Carr. There were two witnesses who could
bring the facts home to Lord Hartledon; and, so far as was known, only
two: the stranger, who had paid him a visit, and the man Gordon, or
Gorton. The latter was the more dangerous; and they had not yet been able
to trace him. Mr. Carr's friend, Detective Green, had furnished that
gentleman with a descriptive bill of Gordon of the mutiny: "a young,
slight man, with light eyes and fair hair." This did not answer exactly
to the Gorton who had played his part at Calne; but then, in regard to
the latter, there remained the suspicion that the red hair was false.
Whether it was the same man or whether it was two men--if the phrase may
be allowed--neither of them, to use Detective Green's expressive words,
turned up. And thus the months had passed on, with nothing special to
mark them. Captain Kirton had been conveyed abroad for the winter, and
they had good news of him; and the countess-dowager was inflicting a
visit upon one of her married daughters in Germany, the baroness with the
unpronounceable name.

And the