ered at once the
whole character of his countenance; and perceiving how intense was the
power and fascination underlying his quiet exterior, I asked myself who
and what this man was; no ordinary personage, I was sure, but who? Had
Miss Davies purposely withheld his name? I began to think so.

"I have had some experience," I was proceeding--

But he waved this consideration aside, with a change back to his former
gloomy aspect, and a careful glance at the door which did not escape me.

"It is not experience which is so much needed as discretion."

Again that word.

"The case is not a common one, or, rather,"--he caught himself up
quickly, "the circumstances are not. My wife is well, but--she is not
happy. She is very unhappy, deeply, unaccountably so, and I do not know
why."

Anxious to watch the effect of these words, he paused a moment, then
added fervently:

"Would to God I did! It would make a new man of me."

The meaning, the deep meaning in his tone, if not in the adjuration
itself, was undeniable; but my old habit of self-control stood me in
good stead and I remained silent and watchful, weighing every look and
word.

"A week ago she was the lightest hearted woman in town,--the happiest
wife, the merriest mother. To-day she is a mere wreck of her former
self, pallid, drawn, almost speechless, yet she is not ill. She will not
acknowledge to an ache or a pain; will not even admit that any change
has taken place in her. But you have only to see her. And I am as
ignorant of the cause of it all--as you are!" he burst out.

Still I remained silent, waiting, watchful.

"I have talked with her physician. He says there is something serious
the matter with her, but he can not help her, as it is not in any
respect physical, and advises me to find out what is on her mind. As if
that had not been my first care! I have also consulted her most intimate
friends, all who know her well, but they can give me no clue to her
distress. They see the difference in her, but can not tell the cause.
And I am obliged to go away and leave her in this state. For two weeks,
three weeks now, my movements will be very uncertain. I am at the beck
and call of the State Committee. At any other time I would try change
of scene, but she will neither consent to leave home without me nor to
interrupt my plans in order that I may accompany her."

"Miss Davies has not told me your name," I made bold to interpolate.

He stared, shook himsel