here straight from St. Jude's, Battersea, the day they were
married; a runaway match, I fancy."

"That's all right; she looked charming. I hope her husband is worthy
of her," remarked George, as he gazed round Mrs. Jacobs' rooms.

"Well, as to that, he's handsome enough, for them as likes those black
men; but I don't like people as only comes to visit their lawful wives
about twice a month. But," suddenly checking herself, "it isn't any
affair of mine."

"No, indeed, very reprehensible: I am, as a married man, entirely of
your mind. These are charming rooms, ma'am, charming. I shall
certainly take them if my wife approves; I will let you know by
to-morrow's post--Jacobs, yes, I have it down. Good evening, ma'am,"
and he was gone.

Instead of going out that evening as he had intended, George sat in
the smoking-room of his hotel and thought. He also wrote a letter
which he addressed to Mrs. Bellamy.

Next morning, taking a cab, he drove to St. Jude's, Battersea, and
inspected the register.

Presently he asked for a certified copy of the following entry:
"August 1, 1856. Philip Caresfoot, bachelor, gentleman, to Hilda von
Holtzhausen, spinster (by license). Signed J. Few, curate; as witness,
Fred. Natt, Eliza Chambers."

That evening Hilda received an anonymous letter, written in a round
clerk's hand, that had been posted in the City. It was addressed to
Mrs. Roberts, and its contents ran thus:

"A sincere friend warns Mrs. Philip Caresfoot that her husband is
deceiving her, and has become entangled with a young lady of her
acquaintance. _Burn this; wait and watch!_"

The letter fell from her hands as though it had stung her.

"Mrs. Jacobs was right," she said aloud, with a bitter laugh, "men
always have a 'reason.' Oh, let him beware!" And she threw back her
beautiful head and the great blue eyes sparkled like those of a snake
about to strike. The sword of jealousy, that she had hitherto repelled
with the shield of a woman's trust in the man she loves, had entered
into her soul, and, could Philip have seen her under these new
circumstances, he would have realized that he had indeed good reason
to "beware." "No wonder," she went on, "no wonder that he finds her
name irritating upon my lips; no doubt to him it is a desecration. Oh,
oh!" And she flung herself on her face, and wept tears of jealous
rage.

"Well," said George to Mrs. Bellamy, as they drove home together after
the great dinner party (do not be s