speak. If he had made any sound
it would have been a cry of pain; but he repressed it. That must be
his secret now, and he would keep it till death. He kept it well then
at least, for there was no faltering in his voice as he said slowly,
'I did not know. You will let me congratulate you, Mabel, and--and
wish you every happiness.'

'Thank you, Vincent,' said Mabel not too warmly, thinking that, from
so old a friend as Vincent, these felicitations were cold and
conventional.

'You are happy, are you not?' he asked anxiously.

'Happier than I ever thought possible,' she said softly. 'When you see
my--my husband' (she spoke the word with a pretty, shy pride), 'and
know how good he is, Vincent, you will understand.' If she had ever
suspected the place she filled in Vincent's heart she would have
spared him this; as it was she treated him as an affectionate elder
brother, who needed to be convinced that she had chosen wisely; and it
was in some degree his own fault that she did so; he had never given
her reason to think otherwise.

'I wish he would come; I can't think where he can be all this time,'
continued Mabel. 'I want you to know one another. I am sure you will
like Mark, Vincent, when you know him.'

Vincent started now unmistakably; not all his self-control could
prevent that. Till that moment it had not occurred to him that Mabel's
presence there, in the town where he had expected to come upon Mark,
was more than a coincidence. He had been led to believe that Mark and
she were not even acquainted, and even the discovery that she was
married did not prepare him for something more overwhelming still.

'Mark!' he cried. 'Did you say Mark? Is that your husband's name?
Not--not _Mark Ashburn_?'

'How that seems to astonish you,' said Mabel. 'But I forgot; how
stupid of me! Why, you are a friend of his, are you not?'

Holroyd's anger came back to him all at once, with a deadly force that
turned his heart to stone.

'I used to be,' he answered coldly, not caring very much just then in
his bitterness if the scorn he felt betrayed itself or not. But Mabel
took his answer literally.

'Why, of course,' she said. 'I remember we came upon your portrait
once at home, and he asked if it was not you, and said you were one of
his oldest friends.'

'I thought he would have forgotten that,' was all Vincent's answer.

'I am quite sure he will be very glad to welcome you back again,'
said Mabel, 'and you will be glad to