Not a word was spoken by either as they passed down the grand staircase. Colonel Mapleson was too absorbed in the painful duty before him, while “coming events” seemed already to have “cast their shadows” upon the handsome face and proud spirit of his wife. A painful expression almost convulsed Colonel Mapleson’s face as he paused irresolutely a moment before the library door. But his hesitation was only for an instant. The next he turned the handle, led his wife within the room, when he closed and locked the door to insure freedom from interruption. Then he led his companion straight to August Huntress. “Mr. Huntress, allow me to present to you my wife, Mrs. Mapleson,” he said by way of introduction. The lady glanced into the gentleman’s face. Instantly her own froze into a look of horror; a shock went quivering through her frame like the blow of an ax upon a tree. She started wildly back from him, her eyes diluted, her lips apart. “_August Damon!_” she gasped, and sank fainting to the floor. CHAPTER XLIII. COLONEL MAPLESON’S STORY. Colonel Mapleson sprang forward to lift his wife, amazement depicted on every feature. August Huntress appeared like a man suddenly deprived of his senses, and stood spell-bound, gazing with a look of awe upon the prostrate woman before him, whom he instantly recognized as Mrs. Marston, _the mother of Gladys_. Geoffrey, after one astonished glance at this vivid tableau, started forward to assist Colonel Mapleson to bear his wife to a sofa at one end of the room. “Shall I ring for assistance?” Mr. Huntress asked, rousing himself with an effort from his state of stupefaction, and reaching toward a bell-pull. Colonel Mapleson turned sharply upon him, with a stern, troubled face. “Did you ever meet my wife before, sir?” he demanded. “I—I think I did, once—years ago,” Mr. Huntress replied, shrinking from compromising the lady, yet forced to tell the truth. “Where?” was the terse query. “Perhaps,” returned the gentleman addressed, while he met his host’s searching gaze frankly and steadily, yet with conscious dignity; “perhaps it would be as well to give our immediate attention to the recovery of your wife, and allow her to make her own explanations when she is able to do so.” It was a polite way of telling him that he would say nothing more until Mrs. Mapleson gave him permission to do so. Colonel Mapleson bowed acquiescence. “Hand me a glass of water, if you please,” he said to Geoffrey, and glancing toward a table on which there was a water service. “We will do what we can for her ourselves, without having any prying servants about. I do not believe my wife ever fainted before.” He sprinkled her face vigorously, bathing her temples, and chafing her hands, to restore circulation. She began to recover almost immediately, and before the expiration of ten minutes was able to sit up, and called for water to drink.