"He looked searchingly in her face. There was no conscious blush, no change of expression, no tremor of the frame. He might as well have addressed a marble statue.
"Mr. Jefferson Jones was posed! Well, he bade her one of his characteristic adieus; and when the door closed, Edith felt as if a mountain weight had been lifted off her heart. There was but one course for her to pursue. She knew it; she had already marked it out. She would deny herself to all visitors; she would not go abroad till her husband's return. She was strong in her purpose; there should be no door left open for busy scandal to enter. Of Ainslie, she knew nothing, save that a letter reached her from him after her marriage, which she had returned unopened.
"And so she wandered restlessly through those splendid rooms, and tried, by this self-inflicted penance, to atone for the defection of her heart. Did she take her guitar, old songs they had sang together came unbidden to her lip; that book, too, they had read. Oh, it was all misery! turn where she would!
"Day after day passed by—no letter from Mr. Jones! The time had already passed that was fixed upon for his return, and Edith, nervous from close confinement and the weary inward struggle, started like a frightened bird, at every footfall.
"It came at last, the letter, sealed with black! 'He had been accidentally drowned—his hat was found—all search for the body had been unavailing.'
"Edith was no hypocrite. She could not mourn for him, save in the outward garb of woe; but now that he was dead, conscience did its office. She had not, in the eye of the world, been untrue; but there is an eye that searches deeper! that scans thoughts as well as actions.
"Ainslie was just starting for the continent by order of a physician, when the news reached him. A brief time he gave to decorum, and then they met! It is needless to say what that meeting was. Days and months of wretchedness were forgotten like some dreadful dream. She was again his own Edith, sorrowing, repentant, and happy!
"They were sitting together, one evening; Edith's hand was upon his shoulder, and her face radiant as a seraph's. They were speaking of their future home.
"'Any spot on the wide earth but this, dear Ainslie. Take me away from these painful associations.'
"'Say you so, pretty Edith?' said a well-known voice. 'I but tried that faithful heart of yours to prove it! Pity to turn such a pretty comedy into a tragedy, but I happen to be manager here, young man,' said Mr. Jones, turning fiercely towards the horror-struck Ainslie!