"So soon?" "Yes," she said, with a choking sob. "You ought not to have come here, and--and you must forgive me, Theophile, we women are so weak when memories are painful." She wished to aid me in my preparations for departure, handed me my hat and buttoned my coat. We said nothing, but she lingered over the buttoning as though it were something very difficult. Suddenly, with a bitter burst of tears, she flung her head down against my arm. She seemed such a frail little creature as I held her tightly and stroked away the tendril curls that strayed across her face. I longed to console her, but could not give utterance to my thoughts. "Mariette. Poor little Mariette," was all I could say. "Good-bye, Theophile, good-bye," she whispered brokenly. "A great gulf separates us; you have gaiety and happiness, I only misery and despair. My husband--" Just as suddenly as they commenced, her tears ceased. Clasping her hands, she lifted her agitated face to mine. "Promise me--promise you will never return here again!" I did not reply. Bending over, her lips met mine in one fierce passionate caress. Next second we were startled by a strange noise, sounding suspiciously like a footstep upon the gravel. We listened, but the sound was not repeated. "Hark!" she whispered anxiously. "If my husband should find you here, would it not compromise me?" With a force I should never have suspected, she led me to the door, and, after giving me a gentle push, locked it behind me. "Adieu!" I murmured, as tenderly as I could. There was no answer. Through the keyhole I could see Mariette kneeling before a crucifix on the opposite wall. Then I turned and went forth into the darkness. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ The morning was grey and dispiriting; the chill wind whirled the dead leaves in my path, and moaned through the bare branches as I walked up to the door of the cottage. My mind was perturbed by thoughts of what happiness might have resulted had I been true to the woman who loved me. I had spent a restless night at a roadside inn. Her misery tortured me, and, despite her entreaty, I was now on my way to again proffer assistance. With trepidation I approached the door of the humble abode and knocked. No one stirred. Everything seemed strangely silent. About to repeat the summons, I noticed the door was ajar. Pushing it slowly open, I entered, at the same time uttering her name. As I stepped into the neat, well-kept room, I at first saw nothing, but on glancing round the opposite side of the table, my eyes encountered a terrible sight. Stretched upon the floor, Mariette was lying partly dressed, the pale light falling upon her upturned features. The cheeks and lips were bloodless; the eyes, wide-open, were staring wildly into space with a look of indescribable horror. Falling upon my knees, I touched her face with my hand. It was cold as marble. _She was dead_!