ery short; it is really not more than
twenty minutes. At the end of that brief space of time Jaqui was
surprised to see Dr. Paltravi reenter the room he had so recently left
in all the wild excitement of an expectant lover. But what a changed man
he was! Pale, haggard, wild-eyed, aged, he sank into a chair and covered
his face with his hands."

"I was afraid of that! I was afraid of that!" exclaimed the Mistress of
the House.

"And I, too," said her daughter, with tears in her eyes; "that was one
of the ways in which I worked it out. But it is too dreadful. John
Gayther, don't you think you have made a mistake? If you were to
consider it all carefully don't you really believe it could not be that,
at least not quite that?"

"I am sorry," said the gardener, "but I am sure this story could not
have happened in any other way, and I think if you will wait until it is
finished you will agree with me.

"For a few minutes the distressed husband could not speak, and then in
faltering tones he told Jaqui what had happened. His wife had been so
shocked and horrified at his appearance that she had come near fainting.
What made it worse was that it was evident she did not regard him as
some strange old man. She had recognized him instantly. His form, his
features, his carriage were perfectly familiar to her. She had known
them all in her young dark-haired husband of forty years before; and
here was that same husband gray-headed, gray-bearded, and repulsively
old! She had turned away her head; she would not look at him. As soon as
she could speak she had demanded to know how long she had been in her
trance, and when the matter was explained her anger was unbounded.

"Dr. Paltravi never told Jaqui all that she said, but she must have used
very severe language. She declared he had used her shamefully and
wickedly in keeping her asleep for so long, and then wakening her to be
the wife of a miserable old man just ready to totter into the grave. But
she would not be his wife. She vowed she would have nothing to do with
him. He had deserted her; he had treated her cruelly; and the holy
father, the Pope, would look upon it in that light, and would separate
her from him. With bitter reproaches she had told him to go away, and
never to let her see him again."

"She ought to have been ashamed of herself," said the Daughter of the
House. "I have no sympathy with her. Instead of upbraiding him she ought
to have been grateful to him for t