“Madam,” he said at length, coming to a halt and planting himself on the hearthrug with his back towards the grate, “nothing could have been more straightforward, or perspicacious than the narrative with which you have just favoured me, and I have no hesitation in saying that to me it seems to bear the stamp of absolute truth. Singularly enough, it happens that I am in a position to enlighten you and set your mind at rest for ever as to the fate of your husband. Poor Alec was killed by the explosion of a steamboat at a date which, I doubt not, will prove on investigation to have been within a few months of the parting between you and him. No wonder, my dear lady, that you looked in vain for any more letters from him.” “Oh, Sir Gilbert,” ejaculated Giovanna, “what an awful fate was his! My poor John! My poor husband!” She covered her face with her hands and bent her head over the end of the couch on which she was seated. Sir Gilbert turned his back and took up first one ornament off the mantel-piece and then another. The Captain tried to look sympathetic, but failed signally. No long time passed before Giovanna sat up and quietly wiped her eyes. Sir Gilbert had felt sure that she was not the kind of woman to make a scene, or go into hysterics, and he secretly commended her good sense. He now turned and cleared his voice. During the last minute or two he had made up his mind to a certain course. “My dear madam,” he began, “I trust you will do me the favour of bringing your son to the Chase to-morrow forenoon and introducing him to me.” He was careful not to say “my grandson.” Giovanna’s heart went up with a bound. “I will do so with the greatest pleasure, Sir Gilbert,” she replied in her usual composed tones, but her cheeks flushed a little and a sudden light leapt to her eyes.