unpardonable.
Yet, for a brief instant, it had occurred to him, and Mrs. Greyne had
seriously held it. He looked at Mademoiselle Verbena, and a sudden
impulse to tell her the truth overcame him.

"Yes," he said.

"Tell me, monsieur."

In broken words--the ship was still very busy--Mr. Greyne related the
incident of the loss and finding of the diary. As he spoke a slight
change stole over the Levantine's face. It certainly became less pale.

"But you have fever now!" cried Mr. Greyne anxiously.

"I! No; I flush with horror, not with fever! The diary, the sacred diary
of madame, exposed to view, read by the children, perhaps the servants!
That footman, Thomas, with the nose of curiosity! Ah! I behold that nose
penetrating into the holy secrets of the existence of madame! I behold
it--ah!"

She burst into a fit of hysterics, the laughing species, which is
so much more terrible than the other sort. Mr. Greyne was greatly
concerned. He lurched to her, and implored her to be calm; but she only
laughed the more, while tears streamed down her cheeks. The vision of
Thomas gloating over Mrs. Greyne's diary seemed utterly to unnerve her,
and Mr. Greyne was able to measure, by this ebullition of horror, the
depth of the respect and affection entertained by her for his beloved
wife. When, at length, she grew calmer he escorted her towards her
cabin, offering her his arm, on which she leaned heavily. As soon as
they were in the narrow and heaving passage she turned to him, and said:

"Who can have taken the diary?"

Mr. Greyne blushed again.

"We think it was Thomas," he said.

Mademoiselle Verbena looked at him steadily for a moment, then she
cried:

"God bless you, monsieur!"

Mr. Greyne was startled by the abruptness of this pious ejaculation.

"Why?" he inquired.

"You are a good man. You, at least, would not condescend to insult a
friendless woman by unworthy suspicions. And madame?"

"Mrs. Greyne"--stammered Mr. Greyne--"is convinced that it was Thomas.
In fact--in fact, she was the first to say so."

Mademoiselle Verbena tenderly pressed his hand.

"Madame is an angel. God bless you both!"

She tottered into her cabin, and, as she shut the door, Mr. Greyne heard
the terrible, laughing hysterics beginning again.

The next day an influence from Africa seemed spread upon the sea. Calm
were the waters, calm and blue. No cloud appeared in the sky. The fierce
activities of the ship had ceased, and Mademoisel