g of
her delicate features seemed cold and rigid enough for a cenotaph.
Even the lips were still and compressed, and a bluish shadow lay about
their dimpled corners, and under the heavy jet eyelashes. Her silver
comb had become loosened, and was finally dragged down by the coil of
hair that slipped slowly until it fell upon the morocco cushion of the
seat, and the glistening waves of gray hair rolled around her
shoulders, and rippled low on her brow. Sea fog had dampened and sea
wind tossed this mass of white locks, till it made a singular
burnished frame for the wan face that looked out hopeless and
painfully quiet.

Her silk _robe de chambre_ of leaden gray, bordered with blue, was
unbuttoned at the throat, and showed its faultless curve and contour;
while the full, open sleeves, blown back by the strong breeze, bared
the snowy arms, where one of the jet serpents that formed her
bracelets, pressed so heavily on the white flesh that a purple band
was visible when the hand was raised and the bracelet slipped back.

Watching her intently, Dr. Grey could not detect the slightest quiver
of nerve or muscle; and she breathed so low and softly that he might
have doubted whether she was really conscious, if he had not correctly
interpreted the strained expression of the unwinking gray eyes whose
pupils contracted as the sky flushed and kindled.

On the floor lay a dainty handkerchief, and stooping to pick it up, he
inhaled the delicate, tenacious perfume of tube-rose, which, blended
with orange-flowers, he had frequently discovered when standing near
her.

Placing it within reach of her fingers, he said, very gently and more
tenderly than he was aware of,--

"Mrs. Gerome,--"

"Hush! I know what you have come to tell me. I knew it when I came
away. Let me alone, now."

She raised her head, and turned her eyes to meet his, and he shuddered
at the hard, bitter look, that came swiftly over the blanched
features. For some seconds they gazed full at each other, and Dr.
Grey's eyes filled with a mist that made hers seem large and radiant
as wintry stars.

He knew then that his heart was no longer his own,--that this
wretched, solitary woman, had installed herself in its most sacred
penetralia; that she had not suddenly, but gradually, become the
dearest object that earth possessed.

He did not ask himself whether she filled all his fastidious and
lofty requirements,--whether she rose full-statured to his noble
standard,