"'That's the best of reasons for not giving it up,' I answered. 'I happen to be a great admirer of your wife.' "'That's another link between us,' said he. 'She's the best wife man ever had. She's worthy of all the admiration you can give her.' "She's worthy of all the roses you can grow for her,' I said. "'By God, she is!' he answered with an emphasis that startled me. "We grew confidential, and a story followed. He told me that he was the illegitimate son of a baronet; that his father had made him an allowance to study art in London; that he had married his model, in opposition to the wishes of his father; that the baronet had thereupon thrown him over for good and all; that he had failed to make a living by his original art; that he had got an engagement with a great furnishing-house as a skilled painter; that he was earning four pounds a week in doing artistic work in rich men's houses and elsewhere; that he was now engaged in restoring some fifteenth-century frescoes in a parish church. His wife earned money too, though he did not tell me how, and his daughter was being trained as a singer. 'We're all more or less in art,' he said, 'and we are a very happy family.' "By this time we were back at the landing-place, and as the man stepped ashore he said: 'It's about time I took these roses to my wife. We'll just walk along to where I live, and I'll show you the rest of the sights afterwards. I'll take you to the Cathedral when the afternoon service is over.' "As we walked through the streets the man kept up an incessant stream of talk, pointing to this and that, and discoursing with great eagerness on the history and antiquities of the town. It struck me as strange that he never waited for any answer but passed from one thing to another without a pause. Presently we stopped in front of a small house, one of a row of villas. "'This is where I live,' he said, and stopped on the doorstep. "'Good!' I cried; 'and now you will take me in and reintroduce me to your charming wife.' "'I'm sorry,' he answered, 'but the thing's quite impossible.' "I was so startled by this unexpected answer that, without thinking, I blurted out the question, 'Why?' "'_Because_,' he said, '_she's in her coffin. She died at four o'clock this morning._' "At the words he sank down on his doorstep, put the basket of roses on his knees and bowed himself over them in a passion of tears. "The door opened, and the young girl, who had been with me in the train, ran down the steps. Sitting down beside her father she put her arms round his neck and said, 'Daddy, Daddy, don't cry!'" * * * * * The Professor ceased and there was a long pause. "Did you discover," said the Pessimist at length, "why the two were weeping in the train?" "No need to ask that," said our Hostess. "The woman had received sentence of death." "Did you ever follow it up?" said the Historian. "What, for example, became of the young girl?"