aceful had grown those suffering, panting
breaths, that they almost startled me into a hope of happier days. Could
health, long absent, be returning? A state of continuous illness, if
free from acute pain, would be a relief.

These half-formed hopes made me restless, and, instead of taking the
physical repose I needed, I rose from the lounge, and walked out on the
deserted lawn in front of the cottage. The moon was at the full, and
shone brighter than day's twilight. The night was warm, but not
oppressive,--for there was a gentle air blowing, filled with the
invigorating briny odor of the ocean; yet I felt choked and stifled.

"Just for a breath from the beach," I said to myself, as I descended the
steps leading down from the cliff.

On reaching the sands, instead of being alone, as I had hoped, I found
two persons already there. I drew back quickly, intending to return; but
they were passing too swiftly to notice me. As they went by, the bright
full moon gleamed over their pale, wan faces, and I recognized in them
Madame C----and the tenor!

They were talking earnestly, in low, rapid Italian. She leaned on his
arm,--indeed, they seemed to be sustaining each other, for both appeared
feeble and faint; but, tottering as they were, they sped rapidly by, and
so near to me that the corner of Madame C----'s mantle flapped in my
face, and left a strange subtile perfume behind it.

But what struck me most was the expression of their faces,--such wild,
sad, longing, entreating love! As they disappeared around a corner of
the cliff which jutted out, a dreadful suspicion seized me. Could they
be seeking self-destruction? Were they going to bury their unhallowed
love, with its shame and sorrow, in one wildering embrace beneath those
surging ocean-waves?

As one in a dream, I moved along the beach, hardly knowing whither I
went. Mechanically I ascended the flight of steps which led to the part
of the cliff directly opposite the hotel entrance. As I walked up the
lawn, I noticed a great commotion in the house. There were lights
flitting about, people running up and down stairs, and many persons
talking confusedly on the gallery and in the hall.

"What is the matter?" I asked of a waiter who was passing near me,
looking frightened and bewildered.

He stopped, and answered with all the keen eagerness of an untrained
person, to whom the communicating of a startling story to an uninformed
superior is a perfect godsend.

"Very