ld friend, and it seemed that he had already done so. More than
once, when he coughed, his wife fetched him some drink in a cup,
which he took from her without a word. And Stanbury the while went on
smoking in silence.

"You have heard, Louis," she said at last, "that, after all, Nora and
Mr. Stanbury are going to be married?"

"Ah;--yes; I think I was told of it. I hope you may be happy,
Stanbury;--happier than I have been." This was unfortunate, but
neither of the visitors winced, or said a word.

"It will be a pity that papa and mamma cannot be present at the
wedding," said Mrs. Trevelyan.

"If I had to do it again, I should not regret your father's absence;
I must say that. He has been my enemy. Yes, Stanbury,--my enemy. I
don't care who hears me say so. I am obliged to stay here, because
that man would swear every shilling I have away from me if I were in
England. He would strive to do so, and the struggle in my state of
health would be too much for me."

"But Sir Marmaduke sails from Southampton this very week," said
Stanbury.

"I don't know. He is always sailing, and always coming back again. I
never asked him for a shilling in my life, and yet he has treated me
as though I were his bitterest enemy."

"He will trouble you no more now, Louis," said Mrs. Trevelyan.

"He cannot trouble you again. He will have left England before you
can possibly reach it."

"He will have left other traitors behind him,--though none as bad as
himself," said Trevelyan.

Stanbury, when his cigar was finished, rose and left the husband and
wife together on the terrace. There was little enough to be seen at
Casalunga, but he strolled about looking at the place. He went into
the huge granary, and then down among the olive trees, and up into
the sheds which had been built for beasts. He stood and teased the
lizards, and listened to the hum of the insects, and wiped away the
perspiration which rose to his brow even as he was standing. And all
the while he was thinking what he would do next, or what say next,
with the view of getting Trevelyan away from the place. Hitherto he
had been very tender with him, contradicting him in nothing, taking
from him good humouredly any absurd insult which he chose to offer,
pressing upon him none of the evil which he had himself occasioned,
saying to him no word that could hurt either his pride or his
comfort. But he could not see that this would be efficacious for the
purpose desired. He had