"He looked pale and dejected--quite unlike himself," she added, "I wonder if his handsome wife and little daughter are at the seaside yet." "Did you not know," said Mr. Leith, "Mrs. Desmond and Ruby have gone to Europe with Chesleigh." "Gone without her husband," cried the lady. "How strange! Do you not think so?" "Not strange when you hear the circumstances," Mr. Leith replied, gravely. "The truth is Mrs. Desmond became violently jealous of a pretty servant girl, and declared she would leave him--even threatened a divorce. To save publicity her brother persuaded her to take a trip with him to Europe, hoping that time might soften her anger. You understand that these are not public facts, Mrs. Leith. They came to me personally as the Desmonds' lawyer." "I shall not repeat them," she replied, taking the gentle hint, good-humoredly. "Do you think she will ever be reconciled, Mr. Leith?" "I scarcely think so. Mrs. Desmond is perfectly implacable at present. Mr. Desmond employed me as a mediator between them, but I could accomplish nothing. He swears that she was unjustly jealous, and that there was nothing at all between him and the girl. But I could not induce Mr. Chesleigh nor his sister to believe the assertion." "What became of the girl?" inquired Mrs. Leith. "Mrs. Desmond drove the wretched creature away. It is not known what became of her," replied the lawyer; "altogether it is a very sad affair. Chesleigh has acted on my advice in taking his sister out of the country for awhile. I pity Bertram Chesleigh. He has had a bad entanglement himself lately which he has been compelled to place in my hands. But, poor boy, I fear I can do nothing for him." "He is trying to get a divorce from me," thought Golden, with a dizzy horror in her mind, and the bitter agony of the thought drove the color from her face, and the life from her heart. With an exceeding bitter cry she threw up her arms in the air, staggered blindly forward and fell heavily upon the floor. "What is that?" cried Mr. Leith, looking round with a great start. "Why, it's Mary Smith! I had forgotten that she was in the room," cried Mrs. Leith. "Oh, look, she is dead!" She began to wring her hands excitedly, but Mr. Leith said quietly: "Do not alarm yourself. She has only fainted I suppose. Bring some water and we will soon revive her." She ran into the dressing-room, and Mr. Leith bent down over the prostrate form and lifted the drooping head compassionately. The ugly, concealing cap and glasses had fallen off, and as his gaze rested fully on the lovely, marble-white face, a cry of surprise and anguish broke from his lips. "My God, how terribly like!" he muttered. Then, as Mrs. Leith returned with water and _eau de cologne_, he applied them both, without the slightest success, for Golden still lay cold, white and rigid, like one dead, upon his arm. "Is she dead?" Mrs. Leith whispered, fearfully.