eir eyes also. It was only
a glance, but for the first and last time the woman's intuition cast a
light for itself into the dark places of a strong man's soul. She gave
a little gasp, and her other hand rested for an instant, as white and
as light as thistle-down, upon his shoulder.

"James, James!" she cried. "Don't you see that he is stricken to the
heart?"

He turned her quietly away from him.

"I am not an emotional man," he said. "I have my duties--my research on
Vallisneria. The brougham is there. Your cloak is in the hall. Tell
John where you wish to be driven. He will bring you anything you need.
Now go."

His last two words were so sudden, so volcanic, in such contrast to his
measured voice and mask-like face, that they swept the two away from
him. He closed the door behind them and paced slowly up and down the
room. Then he passed into the library and looked out over the wire
blind. The carriage was rolling away. He caught a last glimpse of the
woman who had been his wife. He saw the feminine droop of her head,
and the curve of her beautiful throat.

Under some foolish, aimless impulse, he took a few quick steps towards
the door. Then he turned, and throwing himself into his study-chair he
plunged back into his work.

There was little scandal about this singular domestic incident. The
Professor had few personal friends, and seldom went into society. His
marriage had been so quiet that most of his colleagues had never ceased
to regard him as a bachelor. Mrs. Esdaile and a few others might talk,
but their field for gossip was limited, for they could only guess
vaguely at the cause of this sudden separation.

The Professor was as punctual as ever at his classes, and as zealous in
directing the laboratory work of those who studied under him. His own
private researches were pushed on with feverish energy. It was no
uncommon thing for his servants, when they came down of a morning, to
hear the shrill scratchings of his tireless pen, or to meet him on the
staircase as he ascended, grey and silent, to his room. In vain his
friends assured him that such a life must undermine his health. He
lengthened his hours until day and night were one long, ceaseless task.

Gradually under this discipline a change came over his appearance. His
features, always inclined to gauntness, became even sharper and more
pronounced. There were deep lines about his temples and across his
brow. His cheek was