ou are actually
married."

He released her hand with difficulty. It was too dark to see his face.
She hesitated a moment, and then fled into the house.

* * * * *

It is a well-known fact that after the funeral the strictest etiquette
permits, nay, encourages, certain slight relaxations on the part of the
bereaved.

Lady Newhaven lay on the sofa in her morning-room in her long black
draperies, her small hands folded. They were exquisite, little
blue-veined hands. There were no rings on them except a wedding-ring.
Her maid, who had been living in an atmosphere of pleasurable excitement
since Lord Newhaven's death, glanced with enthusiastic admiration at
her mistress. Lady Newhaven was a fickle, inconsiderate mistress, but at
this moment her behavior was perfect. She, Angelique, knew what her own
part should be, and played it with effusion. She suffered no one to come
into the room. She, who would never do a hand's turn for the English
servants, put on coal with her own hands. She took the lamps from the
footman at the door. Presently she brought in a little tray with food
and wine, and softly besought "Miladi" to eat. Perhaps the mistress and
maid understood each other. Lady Newhaven impatiently shook her head,
and Angelique wrung her hands. In the end Angelique prevailed.

"Have they all gone?" Lady Newhaven asked, after the little meal was
finished, and, with much coaxing, she had drunk a glass of champagne.

Angelique assured her they were all gone, the relations who had come to
the funeral--"Milor Windham and l'Honorable Carson" were the last. They
were dining with Miss West, and were leaving immediately after dinner by
the evening express.

"Ask Miss West to come to me as soon as they have gone," she said.

Angelique hung about the room, and was finally dismissed.

Lady Newhaven lay quite still, watching the fire. A great peace had
descended upon that much-tossed soul. The dreadful restlessness of the
last weeks was gone. The long suspense, prolonged beyond its time, was
over. The shock of its ending, which shattered her at first, was over
too. She was beginning to breathe again, to take comfort once more: not
the comfort that Rachel had tried so hard to give her, but the comfort
of feeling that happiness and ease were in store for her once more; that
these five hideous months were to be wiped out, and not her own past, to
which she still secretly clung, out of which she was