e said, hurriedly; "he sent you--he is
well?"

"He sent me--yes. And he is well--oh, yes. I have a note for you, too,
from him, but I will not show it to you just yet, if you will allow me.
My dear young lady, I have come--he has sent me on a very hard and
embarrassing errand, indeed."

Something in the man's face, in the man's tone, even more than his
words, made her look quickly up. To his dying day, James Liston never
forgot the haunted, terrified look in those dilating, dark eyes. She
laid her hand over her fast beating heart, and spoke with an effort.

"He is well, you say?" she panted.

"He is well, Mrs. Laurence. It were better for you he were dead."

"Sir!" she cried, the light leaping to her eyes, the flush to her face;
"how dare you! He is my husband--how dare you say such a thing to me!"

"He is not your husband."

The low, level, monotonous voice spoke the dreadful words, the small,
light, glimmering eyes were fixed immovably upon her with a look,
half-contemptuous, half-compassionate, in their depths.

She rose slowly to her feet, and stood blankly staring at him. Was the
man mad?

"Not my--" she paused irresolute. Should she run away from this madman
or stand her ground. "Give me my letter!" she said, angrily; "I have
nothing more to say to _you_!"

"Because I tell you Laurence Thorndyke is not your husband? My child, it
is true."

His tone was solemn--his face full of compassion. What a child she was,
he was thinking; how she loved him. What was there about this young
fellow that women should give up all that made their lives most dear,
for his sake?

"I told you, Mrs. Laurence, I have been sent here on a hard and painful
errand. He sent me. 'Conscience makes cowards of us all.' He is a coward
as well as a villain, and he had not the courage to face you himself.
You have been watching and waiting for his return, I know. Watch and
wait no longer; you will never see Laurence Thorndyke again."

A cry broke from her lips--a cry that rang in his ears his life long--a
cry not loud, but exceedingly bitter.

"In Heaven's name, speak and tell me what is it you mean?"

"_This_: You are not a wife--Laurence Thorndyke never married you. He
deceived and betrayed you from the first; he has deserted you forever at
the last. That is the task he has set me. I am but a poor diplomat to
break bad news, as they call it, to any one, so I blurt out the truth at
once. After all, it is the same in the end. He