so the evening
before, and Mr. Sylvester upon turning up the gas had failed to observe
the fact. Instantly she felt her heart stand still, for the house being
wide and the extension narrow, all that went on in that boudoir, or at
least in that portion of it which Mr. Sylvester at present occupied, was
easily observable from the window at which she stood; and that something
was going on of a serious and important nature, was sufficiently evident
from the expression of Mr. Sylvester's countenance. He was standing with
his face bent towards some one seated out of sight, his wife
undoubtedly, though what could have called her from her dreams--and was
busily engaged in talking. The subject whatever it was, absorbed him
completely. If Paula had allowed herself the thought, she would have
described him as pleading and that with no ordinary vehemence. But
suddenly while she gazed half fascinated and but little realizing what
she was doing, he started back and a fierce change swept over his face,
a certain incredulity, that presently gave way to a glance of horror and
repugnance, which the quick action of his out-thrown palm sufficiently
emphasized. He was pushing something from him, but what? A suggestion or
a remembrance? It was impossible to determine.

The countenance of Mrs. Sylvester who that moment appeared in sight
sailing across the floor in her azure wrapper, offered but little
assistance in the way of explanation. Immovable under most
circumstances, it was simply at this juncture a trifle more calm and
cold than usual, presenting to Paula's mind the thought of a white and
icy barrier, against which the most glowing of arrows must fall chilled
and powerless.

"O for a woman's soul to inform that breast if but for a moment!" cried
Paula, lost in the passion of this scene, while so little understanding
its import. When as if in mockery to this invocation, the haughty form
upon which she was gazing started rigidly erect, while the lip acquired
a scorn and the eye a menace that betrayed the serpent ever in hiding
under this white rose.

Paula could look no longer. This last revelation had awakened her to the
fact that she was gazing upon a scene sacred to the husband and wife
engaged in it. With a sense of shame she rushed to the bed and threw
herself upon it, but the vision of what she had beheld would not leave
her so easily. Like letters of fire upon a black ground, the panorama of
looks and gestures to which she had