Audrey tells me.'

'I think that a pity. When my children were christened I was always with
them. To be sure, both Kester and Mollie were two months old at least.
What is your opinion, Captain Burnett--you are a strict Churchman, I
know--ought not the mother to be there as a matter of course?'

Mrs. Blake spoke in a soft voice, with her usual engaging air of
frankness, but Michael's answer was decidedly stiff. Of all things he
hated to be entrapped into a theological argument, but he would not
compromise truth.

'I think there is one thing even more desirable than the mother's
presence,' he returned quickly, 'and that is that these little heathens
be made Christians as soon as possible; and I think Harcourt is
perfectly right to have his son baptized without exposing his wife to
any risk.'

'And she is still so delicate, as dear Audrey tells me. She was up at
Hillside last evening, and Cyril fetched her. My boy is a most devoted
lover, Captain Burnett.'

'Cela va sans dire,' returned Michael lightly--he may be forgiven for
regarding this speech in the worst possible taste--and then he stopped,
attracted by a singular action on the part of their fellow-passenger.

He had put down his paper, and was leaning forward a little in his seat,
and staring intently into Mrs. Blake's face.

'Good God, it is Olive!' he muttered. 'As I live, it is Olive herself!'
and then he threw out both his hands in a strange, appealing sort of
way, and his face was very pale. 'Olive,' he went on, and there was
something strained and pitiful in his voice, as though pleading with
her; 'how am I to sit and hear you talk about the little chaps and take
no notice? How am I to mind my promise and not speak to my own wife?'

Michael gave a violent start, but he had no time to speak, for Mrs.
Blake suddenly clutched his arm with a stifled scream; she looked so
ghastly, so beside herself with terror, that he could not help pitying
her.

'Captain Burnett,' she gasped, 'will you stop the train? I will not
travel any longer with this madman. I shall die if I am in this carriage
a moment longer. Don't you see he is mad? Will you call the guard?
I--I----' She sank down, unable to articulate another syllable.

Captain Burnett hardly knew how to act. They would reach the station for
Rutherford in another quarter of an hour. He knew the man opposite him
was no more mad than he was--there was no insanity in those deep-set,
melancholy eyes, only inten