her head was protected by a quaintly shaped hood, which
looked (on _her_) the most becoming head-dress that a woman could wear.
As the two passed me, I heard the man speak to her in a tone of sulky
annoyance.

"It's wasting money," he said, "to go to the expense of taking _you_ to
the opera."

"I am not well," she answered with her head down and her eyes on the
ground. "I am out of spirits to-night."

"Will you ride home or walk?"

"I will walk, if you please."

I followed them unperceived, waiting to present myself to her until
the crowd about them had dispersed. In a few minutes they turned into a
quiet by-street. I quickened my pace until I was close at her side, and
then I took off my hat and spoke to her.

She recognized me with a cry of astonishment. For an instant her face
brightened radiantly with the loveliest expression of delight that I
ever saw on any human countenance. The moment after, all was changed.
The charming features saddened and hardened. She stood before me like a
woman overwhelmed by shame--without uttering a word, without taking my
offered hand.

Her companion broke the silence.

"Who is this gentleman?" he asked, speaking in a foreign accent, with an
under-bred insolence of tone and manner.

She controlled herself the moment he addressed her. "This is Mr.
Germaine," she answered: "a gentleman who was very kind to me in
Scotland." She raised her eyes for a moment to mine, and took refuge,
poor soul, in a conventionally polite inquiry after my health. "I hope
you are quite well, Mr. Germaine," said the soft, sweet voice, trembling
piteously.

I made the customary reply, and explained that I had seen her at the
opera. "Are you staying in London?" I asked. "May I have the honor of
calling on you?"

Her companion answered for her before she could speak.

"My wife thanks you, sir, for the compliment you pay her. She doesn't
receive visitors. We both wish you good-night."

Saying those words, he took off his hat with a sardonic assumption of
respect; and, holding her arm in his, forced her to walk on abruptly
with him. Feeling certainly assured by this time that the man was no
other than Van Brandt, I was on the point of answering him sharply, when
Mrs. Van Brandt checked the rash words as they rose to my lips.

"For my sake!" she whispered, over her shoulder, with an imploring look
that instantly silenced me. After all, she was free (if she liked) to go
back to the man who had so v