es, swelling
and expanding at last into the rounded curves of her bosom; here the
colour seemed to glow deeper and warmer where her heart was beating
tumultuously, and then towards her neck it paled again, beneath ruffle
and ruffle of lace that lay like foam against the soft, snow-white
throat. It was a symphony of colour. A perfect harmony of perfect tones
in union with the brilliant fairness of her skin. The sleeves, half
open to the elbow, revealed a white, rounded, downy arm, and the
thousand subtle pink-and-white tints of her flesh seemed to melt and
merge themselves into a bewildering, distracting glow within that
rose-hued sleeve. She made one exquisite, intoxicating vision to the
senses. In those moments I can hardly say I saw her. She rather seemed
to sway before the dizzy sight of my excited eyes.

Dimly yet keenly, vaguely yet convincingly, I felt she had come as an
adorable antagonist to my resolutions. Traditionally speaking, such a
knowledge should have made me instantly on my guard.

I ought certainly to have summoned my control, my judgment, and so on,
to say nothing of an icy reserve. But I did not. My whole heart seemed
to rush out to her, my whole being to strain towards her. I longed to
take her entirely in my arms, to kiss her on the lips and throat, and
say,--

"Ask whatever you will and it shall be granted."

"The manuscript is finished, isn't it?" she repeated.

Oh, bitter, bitter, and cruel fate that had dragged the fruits of my
labour, and with them everything, out of my hand!

"It was finished, Lucia, a few days ago," I said, speaking calmly with
a great effort; "but an accident happened and it was destroyed."

I felt myself growing paler and paler as I spoke, meeting her lovely,
eager eyes fixed on mine.

"Destroyed?" she echoed, growing white to the lips. "Oh, Victor! How?"

"I would rather not say, Lucia, exactly how it occurred, but it had
been accepted by a publisher here, and I was going to make one or two
trifling alterations in it to please him, and so I had it back. Well,
then, as I say, something happened, and the thing was destroyed."

There was a dead silence.

I saw her heart beating painfully beneath the laces on her bosom, and
pain stamped on all her face. Then she said abruptly,--

"Have you Howard with you still?"

"No. He left Paris last night," I answered.

Her eyes met mine full across the sunlight. We looked at each other in
silence.

She asked nothing f