he thought that flashed through his mind. The position
was embarrassing. What could he say? In the next moment intervening
forms hid those of General Abercrombie and his fair companion. Still as
a statue, with eyes that seemed staring into vacancy, Mrs. Abercrombie
remained for some moments, then she drew her hand within the
gentleman's arm and said in a low voice that was little more than a
hoarse whisper:

"Thank you; yes, I will go back to the parlors."

They retired from the room without attracting notice.

"Can I do anything for you?" asked the gentleman as he seated her on a
sofa in one of the bay-windows where she was partially concealed from
observation.

"No, thank you," she answered, with regaining self-control. She then
insisted on being left alone, and with a decision of manner that gave
her attendant no alternative but compliance.

The gentleman immediately returned to the supper-room. As he joined the
company there he met a friend to whom he said in a half-confidential
way: "Do you know anything about General Abercrombie's relations with
his wife?

"What do you mean?" inquired the friend, with evident surprise.

"I saw something just now that looks very suspicious."

"What?"

"I came here with Mrs. Abercrombie a little while ago, and was engaged
in helping her, when I saw her face grow deadly pale. Following her
eyes, I observed them fixed on the general, who was chatting gayly and
taking wine with a lady."

"What! taking wine did you say?"

The gentleman was almost as much surprised at the altered manner of his
friend as he had been with that of Mrs. Abercrombie:

"Yes; anything strange in that?"

"Less strange than sad," was replied. "I don't wonder you saw the color
go out of Mrs. Abercrombie's face."

"Why so? What does it mean?"

"It means sorrow and heartbreak."

"You surprise and pain me. I thought of the lady by his side, not of
the glass of wine in his hand."

The two men left the crowded supper-room in order to be more alone.

"You know something of the general's life and habits?"

"Yes."

"He has not been intemperate, I hope?"

"Yes."

"Oh, I am pained to hear you say so."

"Drink is his besetting sin, the vice that has more than once come near
leading to his dismissal from the army. He is one of the men who cannot
use wine or spirits in moderation. In consequence of some diseased
action of the nutritive organs brought on by drink, he has lost the
power of self-co