had applied the torture, and he saw
her racked with agony and utterly heedless of the comfort he had
offered, and had fondly hoped to give her.

"Have you proof for what you say?" she cried, her wild look of confusion
and terror making her so unlike her usual self that he seemed not to
know her. "I will never believe it without the strongest proof. It is
too horrible, too awful, too deadly, deadly shameful to be true. Be
quick about it. If there is proof, let me have it."

"Christine, there is proof. I have it here on the spot, but spare
yourself, my poor, poor girl. Wait a little--"

"Don't talk to me of waiting. Let me see what you have got. Oh, can't
you see that I can bear anything better than not to know? Show me what
you have and if what you say is true--"

But she turned away as if his eyes upon her hurt her, and raised her arm
before her face. In an instant she lowered it and said entreatingly:

"Oh, show me what you have. Have pity on me."

Noel took the envelope containing the picture from his pocket.

"This has been sent me by a lawyer," he said. "The woman is his client.
She says he gave her this picture soon after they were married. Oh,
Christine, don't look at it--"

But she walked toward him steadily and took the envelope from his hand.
He could not bear to see her when her eyes rested on it, so he turned
away and walked off a few paces, standing with his back toward her.

There was a moment's silence. He heard her slip the picture from the
envelope, and he knew that she was looking at it. He heard his watch
tick in the stillness, and her absolute silence frightened him. It
lasted, perhaps, a moment more and then he turned and looked at her. She
was standing erect with the picture in her hand. He saw that she had
turned it over and that it was upon the reverse side that her eyes were
fixed. There was some writing on it which he had not seen.

She held the photograph out to him, with an intense calm in her manner,
but he saw that her nostrils quivered and her breath came short. Her
hands were trembling, too, but her voice was steady as she said:

"I am convinced."

He glanced down at the picture and saw written on the back in a weak,
uncertain hand which Christine had evidently recognized, "To my darling
little wife, from Robert."

He felt her humiliation so intensely that he could not look at her, but
he took a step toward her and was about to speak when she turned away
and, with a totteri