He turned to go without a word. He had reached the door. All at once he turned back, caught her in his arms almost fiercely, and kissed her again and again.
"Good-by," he said, "my wife, my love—good-by."
His vehemence frightened her. She released herself and looked at him, her heart fluttering. A second time he walked to the door—a second time he paused. Something seemed to stay his feet on the threshold.
"You will think me foolish, Ethel," he said, with a forced laugh; "but I seem afraid to leave you to-night. Nervous folly, I suppose; but take care of yourself, my darling, until I return. I shall be back at the earliest possible moment."
Then he was gone.
She crossed over to the low French window, standing wide open, and looked after him wistfully.
"Dear Victor," she thought, "how fond he is of me, after all."
The moon was shining brightly now, though the day still lingered. She stood and watched him out of sight. Once, as he rode away, he turned back—she kissed and waved her hand to him with a smile.
"Poor Victor!" she thought again, "he loves me so dearly that I ought to forgive him everything. How happy we might be here together, if it were not for that horrible brother and sister. I wish—I wish he would send her away."
She lingered by the window, fascinated by the brilliancy of the rising
September moon. As she stood there, the nursery door opened, and Miss
Catheron entered.