d being a tremendous egotist, he said,
"Oh! all right. If she would rather not know her husband is alive, it
is all one to me;" and he actually took no more notice of her for a full
week, and never thought of her, except to chuckle over the penalty she
was paying for daring to affront his vanity.

However, Sunday came; he saw a dull day before him, and so he relented,
and thought he would give her another trial.

He went down to Gravesend by boat, and strolled towards the villa.

When he was about a hundred yards from the villa, a lady, all in black,
came out with a nurse and child.

Falcon knew her figure all that way off, and it gave him a curious
thrill that surprised him. He followed her, and was not very far behind
her when she reached the church. She turned at the porch, kissed the
child earnestly, and gave the nurse some directions; then entered the
church.

"Come," said Falcon, "I'll have a look at her, any way."

He went into the church, and walked up a side aisle to a pillar, from
which he thought he might be able to see the whole congregation; and,
sure enough, there she sat, a few yards from him. She was lovelier than
ever. Mind had grown on her face with trouble. An angelic expression
illuminated her beauty; he gazed on her, fascinated. He drank and drank
her beauty two mortal hours, and when the church broke up, and she went
home, he was half afraid to follow her, for he felt how hard it would
be to say anything to her but that the old love had returned on him with
double force.

However, having watched her home, he walked slowly to and fro composing
himself for the interview.

He now determined to make the process of informing her a very long one:
he would spin it out, and so secure many a sweet interview with her:
and, who knows? he might fascinate her as she had him, and ripen
gratitude into love, as he understood that word.

He called, he sent in his card. The man went in, and came back with a
sonorous "Not at home."

"Not at home? nonsense. Why, she is just come in from church."

"Not at home," said the man, evidently strong in his instructions.

Falcon turned white with rage at this second affront. "All the worse for
her," said he, and turned on his heel.

He went home, raging with disappointment and wounded vanity, and--since
such love as his is seldom very far from hate--he swore she should never
know from him that her husband was alive. He even moralized. "This comes
of being so un