The change, the novelty, the sight of gaiety in which she took no share, but which she looked on at with a partial diversion of her mind, did her good. It was something even to be out of England; not a very rational or well-founded relief, but still a relief, explicable and defensible too, on the theory to which she adhered, that all her ills were merely physical. The torpid interval prolonged itself, and the vital powers of the sufferer were recruited for the wakening. This took place when Mrs. Ireton P. Bembridge's pony-carriage passed her as she sat by the side of the broad shaded road, and the woman's splendid black eyes met hers. When her husband passed her without seeing her, absorbed in passionate admiration, which any child must have recognized as such, for the beautiful woman whose pony-carriage was like a triumphal chariot, so royal and conquering of aspect was she. Keen were the tormentors, and full of avidity, and subtle was the new device to tax the recruited strength and mock the brief repose. It was raging, fierce, fiery, maddening jealousy. It was late in the afternoon of the day on which Mrs. Ireton P. Bembridge had sent her answer to Mr. Felton's note, and while George Dallas was sitting with Mrs. Routh, that the beautiful widow and her companion--this time exploring the forest glades in another direction, in which they met but few of the visitors to the springs--once more mentioned Mr. Felton and his son. The gray ponies were going slowly, and the French groom in attendance was considering the probable direction of the "affair" in which his mistress had so precipitately engaged herself, and which, being conducted in the English tongue, was interpreted to him by glances and tones only. The beauty of the face on which Stewart Routh was gazing in an intensity of admiration, with a certain desperation in it, in which a cleverer woman than this one would have seen indications of character to warn and alarm her, but which this one merely recognized as a tribute due to her, was marvellously bright and soft, as the slanting rays of the sun came through the tree stems, and touched it lingeringly, lovingly. Her black eyes had wonderful gleams and reflections in them, and the masses of her dark hair were daintily tinged and tipped with russet tints. She was looking a little thoughtful, a little dreamy. Was she tired, for the moment, of sparkling? Was she resting herself in an array of the semblance of tenderness, more enchanting still? "You knew him, then, in your husband's lifetime? He is not a new acquaintance?" "What a catechist you are!" she said, with just a momentary glance at him, and the least flicker of a smile. "I did know him in my husband's lifetime, who highly disapproved of him, if you care for _that_ piece of information; we were great friends and he was rather inclined to presume upon the fact afterwards." She lingered upon the word, and gave it all the confirmatory expression Routh had expected and feared.