eat gap in his
conscious being: into that gap had instantly begun to shoot the
all-clothing greenery of natural affection. His devotion to her did not
at first cause them any wonderment. Every body loved the little Amanda,
they saw in him only another of the child's conquests, and rejoiced in
the good the love might do him. Even when they saw him looking fixedly
at her with eyes over clear, they set it down to the frustrated
affection of the lonely, wifeless, childless man. But by degrees they
did come to wonder a little: his love seemed to grow almost a passion.
Strange thoughts began to move in their minds, looking from the one to
the other of this love and the late tragedy.

"I wish," said the curate one morning, as they sat at breakfast, "if
only for Faber's sake, that something definite was known about poor
Juliet. There are rumors in the town, roving like poisonous fogs. Some
profess to believe he has murdered her, getting rid of her body utterly,
then spreading the report that she had run away. Others say she is mad,
and he has her in the house, but stupefied with drugs to keep her quiet.
Drew told me he had even heard it darkly hinted that he was making
experiments upon her, to discover the nature of life. It is dreadful to
think what a man is exposed to from evil imaginations groping after
theory. I dare hardly think what might happen should these fancies get
rooted among the people. Many of them are capable of brutality. For my
part, I don't believe the poor woman is dead yet."

Helen replied she did not believe that, in her sound mind, Juliet would
have had the resolution to kill herself; but who could tell what state
of mind she was in at the time? There was always something mysterious
about her--something that seemed to want explanation.

Between them it was concluded that, the next time Faber came, Wingfold
should be plain with him. He therefore told him that if he could cast
any light on his wife's disappearance, it was most desirable he should
do so; for reports were abroad greatly to his disadvantage. Faber
answered, with a sickly smile of something like contempt, that they had
had a quarrel the night before, for which he was to blame; that he had
left her, and the next morning she was gone, leaving every thing, even
to her wedding-ring, behind her, except the clothes she wore; that he
had done all he could to find her, but had been utterly foiled. More he
could not say.

The next afternoon, he soug