trumpet, you know. And I've got another thing to tell you.
It's deuced odd, but she knew all about me."

"The deuce she did!"

"Yes, the whole story. Lived somewhere in the county. But I don't
remember the Fays. At any rate, she lived there; and do you know, old
fellow, the county people used to think I beat my wife!"

"By Jove!"

"Yes; and afterward they raised a report that my cruelty had driven
her mad. But I had a few friends that stood up for me; and among
others these Fays, you know, had heard the truth of it, and, as it
happened, Kitty--"

"Kitty?"

"Well, Mrs. Willoughby, I mean--her name's Kitty--has always known the
truth about it; and when she saw me at Naples she felt interested in
me."

"Oho!" and Hawbury opened his eyes.

"Well, she knew all about it; and, among other things, she gave me one
piece of intelligence that has eased my mind."

"Ah! what's that?"

"Why, my wife _is_ dead."

"Oh, then there's no doubt about it?"

"Not a bit. She died eight years ago, and in an insane asylum."

"By Jove! Then she was mad all the time."

"Yes; that accounts for it, and turns all my curses into pity."

Dacres was silent now for a few moments. At length he looked at
Hawbury with a very singular expression.

"Hawbury, old boy."

"Well, Sconey?"

"I think we'll keep it up."

"Who?"

"Why, Kitty and I--that is, Mrs. Willoughby and I--her name's Kitty,
you know."

"Keep what up?"

"Why, the--the--the fond illusion, and all that sort of thing. You see
I've got into such an infernal habit of regarding her as my wife that
I can't look on her in any other light. I claimed her, you know, and
all that sort of thing, and she thought I was delirious, and felt
sorry, and humored me, and gave me a very favorable answer."

"Humored you?"

"Yes; that's what she says now, you know. But I'm holding her to it,
and I've every reason to believe, you know--in fact, I may as well say
that it is an understood thing, you know, that she'll let it go, you
know, and at some early day, you know, we'll have it all formally
settled, and all that sort of thing, you know."

Hawbury wrung his friend's hand.

"See here, old boy; you see Ethel there?"

"Yes."

"Who do you think she is?"

"Who?"

"_Ethel Orne_!"

"Ethel _Orne_!" cried Dacres, as the whole truth flashed on his mind.
"What a devil of a jumble every thing has been getting into!--By
Heaven, dear boy, I congratulate you from the bottom of my sou