gaged to be married to
Geoffrey Sterne, one of the most prominent _litterateurs_ of the day.

Geoffrey Sterne and--Flora! How was it that the cleverest of men so
often chose weak, clinging women as companions for life? It seemed to
Meriel inconceivable that this giant among men should have given his
love to an animated doll; but Flora wrote gushing accounts of her
fiance's devotion, and declared that she was as happy as the day was
long. It seemed to Meriel that she must indeed be the happiest of
women!

Circumstances prevented Mend's presence at the wedding, and for the next
five years she did not see her friend. A child was born and died;
rumour reported that Sterne was working incessantly at a work which was
to be the _magnum opus_ of his life; it was said also that his wife was
in delicate health, and had abandoned the dissipations of town. Then at
the end of the five years came an invitation in Flora's handwriting.
Meriel was not to be vexed with her for being silent for so long; she
had always _intended_ to write, simply dreadful how many things were
left undone! Really and truly, she had never forgotten the dear old
days. Would Meriel come down and pay her a nice long visit? Geoffrey
liked to have friends staying in the house; he thought Flora was too
much alone; but some visitors were such a nuisance--always poking about.
Meriel was not like that--she was always a dear old thing. Would
Thursday suit? The 3:13. The car should be waiting at the station.
Flora sent heaps of love...

Meriel accepted the invitation without hesitation; she was without near
relations, living on narrow means, and her life was so bare that she was
thankful of the mere change of scene. She liked the sound of "the car";
most of all she longed to meet Geoffrey Sterne, and see him in the
intimacy of his home.

Flora was waiting at the station when her friend arrived; and at the
sight of her face came Meriel's first disillusionment. This was not the
companion of old; this was a strange woman with whom she had no
acquaintance. The once delicate face had lost its contour, the features
were blurred and coarsened: out of the blue eyes peered a furtive soul.
Meriel felt a presage of trouble at the sight of that ravaged face.

A week's stay at the house revealed two eloquent facts. Flora was
afraid of her husband, but she loved him still, and craved for his
approval. Out of his presence she was nervous, and irritable, possessed