"Then," said Una, in a low voice, which she tried vainly to keep steady--"then it is something concerning Jack. Oh, why do you keep me in suspense?" Her misery maddened him. "I will tell you that he is quite well," he said, almost sharply. "I left him in perfect health. I dined with him, and he made an excellent dinner." "You are angry with him! What has he done to make you angry?" she asked. He raised her hand, and let it fall with a gesture of noble indignation. "What has he done?" he repeated, as if to himself. "I can find no words to describe it adequately. My poor Una!" And he turned to her, and laid his hand caressingly and pityingly on her arm. Una, white and cold, was all unconscious of his touch. Stephen drew her gently to a low seat, and stood over her, his hand resting with the same caressing pity on her arm. "Yes, I must tell you," he said, his voice low and gentle. "Would to Heaven I had been spared the task. Dear Una! you will be calm--I know your brave spirit and true, courageous heart. You will summon all your strength to bear the blow it is left for me to deal you--me who would lay down my life to spare you a moment's pain!" She scarcely heeded him. Her eyes, fixed on his face, were dilated with fear and dread, her lips white and apart with suspense. "Tell me," she murmured. "It is something to do with Jack?" "It is," he said. "It is." "He is dead!" she breathed. And her eyes closed, as a shudder ran through her frame. "Would to Heaven he had died, ere this night's work," said Stephen, in a low, fierce voice. "No; I have told you the truth. I left him well and--Heaven forgive him--happy." Una drew a long breath, and smiled wearily. "What can you have to tell me about him that is so dreadful, if he is alive and happy?" "He is alive, but he must be dead to you, dear Una," said Stephen. "Dead to me!" repeated Una, as if the words had no meaning for her. "Dead to me! I--I do not understand." Then, as he stood silent, with a look of gentle pity and sorrow on his pale face, a sharp expression of apprehension flashed across her face. "Say that again," she said. "You--you mean to tell me that he has left me?" Stephen lowered his head. Una was silent, while the clock ticked three, then three words came swiftly and sharply from her white lips: "It is false!" Stephen started. "Would to Heaven it were," he murmured. "Gone! left me without a word," said Una, with a smile of scorn. "Can you ask--can you expect me to believe it?" "No," said Stephen. "No one would believe such base and hideous treachery without proof." "Proof!" she echoed, faintly, and with sudden sinking of the heart. "Proof! Give it to me!" Stephen drew the letter from his pocket slowly and reluctantly. Una saw it and shivered. "It is from him; give it to me," she said. And she held out her hand. Stephen took it in his, and held it for a moment.