her haggard cheeks unheeded. The children came in,
and finding her so, quietly left the room, all but the eldest girl,
who went and leant against her, slipping her little hand through her
mother's arm. The poor woman kissed the child passionately; then, with
a great effort, recovered her self-control, put her work away, gave
the children their tea, read to them for an hour, and saw them to bed.
The front door was open when she came downstairs, and she went to shut
it. A lady, who knew her, happened to be passing, and stopped to shake
hands. "I saw your husband just now sitting on the beach with Bessie
Gottley," she informed Mrs. Caldwell pleasantly. "They were both
laughing immoderately."

"Very likely," Mrs. Caldwell responded with a smile. "She amuses my
husband immensely. But won't you come in?"

"No, thank you. Not to-night. I am hurrying home. Glad to see you
looking so well;" with which she nodded, and went her way; and Mrs.
Caldwell returned to the little dining-room, holding her head high
till she had shut the door, when she burst into a tempest of tears.
She was a lymphatic woman ordinarily, but subject to sudden squalls of
passion, when she lost all self-control.

She would have sobbed aloud now, when the fit was on her, in the face
of the whole community, although the constant effort of her life was
to keep up appearances. She had recovered herself, however, before the
servant came in with the candles, and was sitting in the window
looking out anxiously. The greyness of the long June day was darkening
down to night now, but there was no change in the sultry stillness of
the air. Summer lightning played about in the strip of sky above the
houses opposite. One of the houses was a butcher's shop, and while
Mrs. Caldwell sat there, the butcher brought out a lamb and killed it.
Mrs. Caldwell watched the operation with interest. They did strange
things in those days in that little Irish seaport, and, being an
Englishwoman, she looked on like a civilised traveller intelligently
studying the customs of a savage people.

But as the darkness gathered, the trouble of her mind increased. Her
husband did not return, and a sickening sensation of dread took
possession of her. Where had he gone? What was he doing? Doubtless
enjoying himself--what bitterness there was in the thought! She did
not grudge him any pleasure, but it was hard that he should find so
little in her company. Why was there no distraction for her? Th