read the half-sad, half-cynical conclusion as he stood
there unseen:

'"The Princess and the Shadow stepped out on the balcony to show
themselves, and to receive one cheer more. But the learned man heard
nothing of all these festivities--for he had already been executed."

'How horrid of that wicked Shadow!' was Dolly's indignant comment as
she finished; 'oh, Vincent, aren't you very, very sorry for the poor
learned man?'

'Much sorrier for the Shadow, Dolly,' he replied, a reply of which
Dolly would have insisted upon an explanation had not Mark then come
forward.

He murmured some confused sentence accounting for his visit.

'I have been wondering whether I should see you again,' said Vincent.
'Dolly, you had better go now, dear, it is getting late--you will come
and read me another story to-morrow?'

'If mother will let me,' said Dolly; 'and I tell you what, next time I
come I'll bring Frisk; you want amusing, I know, and he's a nice,
cheerful dog to have in a room with you.'

When Mark returned from putting her into the carriage, Vincent said,
'Is there anything you want to say to me, Ashburn?'

'Yes,' said Mark; 'I know I have no right to trouble you. I know you
can never really forgive me.'

'I thought so once,' said Vincent, 'but I have done with all that. I
forgave you long ago. Tell me if I can help you?'

'I have just heard for the first time,' said Mark, 'that--that my wife
has not--has not treated you very kindly lately. And I came here to
ask you if I am the cause.'

Vincent flushed suddenly, and his breath was laboured and painful for
a moment. 'What is the use of bringing that up now?' he asked; 'is it
a pleasant subject for either of us? Let it rest.'

'I had no intention of paining you,' said Mark, 'I ought not to have
asked you. I--I will ask Mabel herself.'

'You must not do that!' said Vincent, with energy; 'you might have
spared me this--you might have guessed. Still I will tell you--it may
do good. Yes, you _are_ the cause, Ashburn; the lie I told on that
evening of the rehearsal has borne its penalty, as lies will, and the
penalty has fallen upon me heavily. Ask yourself what your wife must
think of the man I made myself appear!'

'Good God!' groaned Mark, who saw this now for the first time.

'You see,' Vincent pursued, 'I am dying now, with the knowledge that I
shall never see her face again; that when I am gone she will not spare
me a single regret, that she will make haste