“Nina, my beloved, my darling wife,” he wrote, in deep haste and agitation, “On my knees I beg you to forgive me for the folly and madness of which I have been guilty. Oh, if you could know how remorseful, how shame-stricken, how repentant I feel, you could not help but pardon me. I am not worthy of you, my beautiful wife, but I love you with a deep and passionate love that sprung into full growth in the first moment I saw you last night with the orange-blossoms on your hair and breast. In that very moment my mad penchant for a fair coquette died an instant death, slain by the glances of your innocent eyes. I know now that she was not worthy the foolish passion I wasted on her for years, and I beg your pardon for permitting her presence beneath your roof. Oh, my sweet and deeply injured wife, I can explain all if you will grant me an interview to-night, to-morrow, or at any time you may select. I shall not sleep to-night. I shall wait in my room, hoping that you will send me word that I may come to you and plead my cause. Oh, my bride, my wife, do not be hard upon me, do not judge me as I deserve! Only remember my love and my repentance that I place humbly at your feet, hoping prayerfully that you will accept them, and that you will give me a chance to win your forgiveness, and then your love, my beautiful fate. Remember, I am waiting for a single word from your lips, Nina, and be merciful to me, although my past egregious folly merits no mercy at your pure hands!” Sibyl crushed the letter in her little white hands, and paced madly up and down the floor, her silken robes trailing over the carpet with a low swish, swish, that sounded like the hissing of a serpent in the silence of the room. Her blue eyes scintillated fury beneath her frowning brows. “How dare he, how dare he!” she muttered. “A fair coquette! unworthy of the passion he has wasted on me for years, am I? We shall see, we shall see about that my fickle lover! It is most fortunate that I went in there to-night. If she had received this letter it would have made all clear between them, for I could see, poor fool, that she was dying for him! But she will go away, after what I told her about the divorce, her pride will not permit her to accept any overtures toward a reconciliation. She will set him free that he may be mine. She has promised me, and I am sure she will keep her word. But what will she do? Will she separate from him, or will she commit suicide? The latter, I hope, for I do not believe I could win his love again unless he knew that she was dead. Death! oh, what a horrible thing that is! The very thought of it frightens me alone in my room, and so late into the night!” And she shuddered and hid her face for a moment in her hands with a vague presentiment of horror stealing wierdly over her. After a little she lifted her face and looked half-fearfully around her at the dark shadows in the corners of the elegant chamber.