ible
disease.

I went with John to Mrs. Long's almost immediately after tea. He accepted
the proposal with unconcealed delight; and I wondered if Ellen observed
the very nonchalant way in which he replied when she said she did not feel
well enough to go. He already liked better to see Mrs. Long without his
wife's presence, cordial and unembarrassed as her manner always was. His
secret consciousness was always disturbed by it.

When we reached Mrs. Long's house, we learned that she had gone out to
dinner. John's face became black with the sudden disappointment, and quite
forgetting himself, he exclaimed: "Why, what does that mean? She did not
tell me she was going."

The servant stared, but made no reply. I was confused and indignant; but
John went on: "We will come in and wait. I am sure it is some very
informal dinner, and Mrs. Long will soon be at home."

I made no remonstrance, knowing that it might annoy and disturb Ellen to
have us return. John threw himself into a chair in front of the fire, and
looked moodily into the coals, making no attempt at conversation. I took
up a book. Very soon John rose, sauntered abstractedly about the room,
took up Mrs. Long's work-basket, and examined every article in it, and at
last sat down before her little writing-desk, which stood open. Presently
I saw that he was writing. More than an hour passed. I pretended to read;
but I watched my brother-in-law's face. I could not mistake its language.
Suddenly there came a low cry of delight from the door, "Why, John!"

Mrs. Long had entered the house by a side door, and having met no servant
before reaching the drawing-room, was unprepared for finding any one
there. From the door she could see John, but could not see me, except in
the long mirror, to which she did not raise her eyes, but in which I saw
her swift movement, her outstretched hands, her look of unspeakable
gladness. In less than a second, however, she had seen me, and with no
perceptible change of manner had come rapidly towards me, holding out her
left hand familiarly to him, as she passed him. Emma Long was not a
hypocrite at heart, but she had an almost superhuman power of acting. It
was all lost upon me, however, on that occasion. I observed the quick
motion with which John thrust into a compartment of the desk, the sheet on
which he had been writing; I observed the clasp of their hands as she
glided by him; I observed her face; I observed his; and I knew as I had
n