s. Yes, Mrs. Staines received few
visitors; but she was at home to HIM. He even began to falter excuses.
"Nonsense," said Falcon, and slipped a sovereign into his hand; "you are
a good servant, and obey orders."

The servant's respect doubled, and he ushered the visitor into the
drawing-room, as one whose name was a passport. "Mr. Reginald Falcon,
madam."

Mrs. Staines was alone. She rose to meet him. Her color came and went,
her full eye fell on him, and took in all at a glance--that he was all
in black, and that he had a beard, and looked pale, and ill at ease.

Little dreaming that this was the anxiety of a felon about to take the
actual plunge into a novel crime, she was rather prepossessed by it. The
beard gave him dignity, and hid his mean, cruel mouth. His black suit
seemed to say he, too, had lost some one dear to him; and that was a
ground of sympathy.

She received him kindly, and thanked him for taking the trouble to come
again. She begged him to be seated; and then, womanlike, she waited for
him to explain.

But he was in no hurry, and waited for her. He knew she would speak if
he was silent.

She could not keep him waiting long. "Mr. Falcon," said she, hesitating
a little, "you have something to say to me about him I have lost."

"Yes," said he softly. "I have something I could say, and I think I
ought to say it; but I am afraid: because I don't know what will be the
result. I fear to make you more unhappy."

"Me! more unhappy? Me, whose dear husband lies at the bottom of the
ocean. Other poor wounded creatures have the wretched comfort of knowing
where he lies--of carrying flowers to his tomb. But I--oh, Mr. Falcon, I
am bereaved of all: even his poor remains lost,--lost"--she could say no
more.

Then that craven heart began to quake at what he was doing; quaked, yet
persevered; but his own voice quivered, and his cheek grew ashy pale.
No wonder. If ever God condescended to pour lightning on a skunk, surely
now was the time.

Shaking and sweating with terror at his own act, he stammered out,
"Would it be the least comfort to you to know that you are not denied
that poor consolation? Suppose he died not so miserably as you think?
Suppose he was picked up at sea, in a dying state?"

"Ah!"

"Suppose he lingered, nursed by kind and sympathizing hands, that almost
saved him? Suppose he was laid in hallowed ground, and a great many
tears shed over his grave?"

"Ah, that would indeed be a comfor