ness at her heart all the while; for sometimes when she saw this
young creature clinging about her husband, her face wore the strange
expression it had done while she watched their meeting after his return.

The domestic life at Piney Cove was nearly happiness at this time. But
for Elizabeth's hidden anxieties, Mellen's return would have made that
old house almost like heaven. As it was, this haunted woman would
sometimes forget her causes of dread, and break out into gleams of
loving cheerfulness in spite of them.

After the night on which the bracelet was lost, the sunshine which had
brightened the little household at Piney Cove was dimmed by a thousand
intangible shadows. In spite of all his efforts, Grantley Mellen's
suspicions were aroused and kept on the alert, searching for proofs that
could only bring unhappiness when found.

You would not have said that he was suffering from jealousy; there was
nothing upon which his mind settled itself that gave rise to that
feeling, but he fretted absolutely because he had no power to discover
every thought of Elizabeth's soul during his absence. Then as he
reflected upon the mystery connected with his arrival, came up afresh
the disappearance of the bracelet, and he lost himself in a maze of
irritating conjecture, of which his fine judgment often grew ashamed.

Elizabeth wore her old proud look for several days after the night of
the dinner-party. Grantley felt that the ice of the past was freezing
between them once more, and the idea caused him acute pain.

He sat watching her one day as she bent over her needlework, talking a
little at intervals, listening occasionally to passages from his book;
oftener sitting there with her fingers moving hurriedly, as if she were
pressed for time, but her anxious face proving how far from this
occupation her thoughts had wandered.

More than once Mellen saw the dark brows contract as if under actual
distress, and as he ceased to speak, and seemed wholly absorbed in his
book, he could see that her reverie became more absorbing and painful.

"Elizabeth!" he said suddenly.

His wife started. In her preoccupation she had forgotten that he was in
the room--forgotten that she was not alone with those dark reflections
which cast their shadow over her face.

"Did you speak, Grantley?"

"Yes; how you started!"

"Did I start?" she asked, trying to laugh. "I don't know how it is that
I grow so nervous."

"You never were so afflicted