With Dinah, still jealous, Jerry after that one abrupt introduction disappeared down the avenue, probably to be scolded. But Beatrice did not look at the retreating lovers, nor indeed at the advancing Miss Carr, whose foot was now on the lowest step of the terrace. All her attention was concentrated on Vivian Paslow, who stood at the top of the steps as though frozen into stone. The woman came up the steps, and was now so near that Beatrice could see the smile on her fair face.
"You!" said Vivian hoarsely, and fell back a pace.
"Myself," said Miss Carr, "and no ghost either."
Beatrice rose with a bound, and felt a sudden jealous anger surge in her heart. She looked from one to the other imperiously. "Who is this woman?" she asked the cowering man.
"My--my--wife," he said in low, broken tones. "God help me, my wife come back from the dead!"
[CHAPTER XVII]
A STORY OF THE PAST
Miss Carr, or Miss Orchard, or Mrs. Paslow--Beatrice thought of her by all these three names--smiled quietly when her husband made the confession, and sank gracefully into the seat he had vacated. She was certainly a handsome woman, and if not entirely a lady, was an extremely good imitation of the same. Vivian still stood as in a dream, staring at the wife he had believed to be dead and buried, and Beatrice stared alternately at him and at the strange woman. A silence ensued, for each of the three was thinking hard. Beatrice was the first to break silence.
"Will you explain?" she asked Vivian quietly.
"I think," he answered in a harsh, dry tone, "that my wife had better explain. I have the certificate of her death, and----"