'You are right in saying _was_, Pauline; for he is dead, and you are free. You see,' he added, in amusement at the amazed expression on her face, 'I keep myself tolerably well informed as to the movements of those in whom I have at any time taken an interest.' 'And by your--your inquiries you learned that I was here?' she asked. 'No,' he replied; 'truth to tell, that was entirely accidental. I have only just returned from America, and as I was riding by here a few days ago I thought I perceived you at the window. At first I doubted the evidence of my senses, and even when I had satisfied myself; I was so completely upset that I could not attempt to come in. I went home meditating on what I had seen, and determining to come out again on the first opportunity. As I rode out to-day I was debating within myself what excuse I could possibly offer for intruding upon you without announcing myself; as I wished to ascertain whether you would recognise me, when the board at the gate, advertising the house to let, fortunately afforded me the necessary excuse; and how the rest of the little comedy was played out you are aware.' Pauline looked at him earnestly for some moments, as though desirous of ascertaining whether he had correctly stated the motive by which he professed himself animated. The result of her survey seemed to be satisfactory, for she said to him: 'I need scarcely tell you, Monsieur Wetter, that I am much flattered by what you have said, or that I am very much pleased to see you again.' 'And on my part,' said he, taking her hand and, gallantly raising it to his lips, 'I need scarcely say that the pleasure is mutual. I hope I shall often be allowed to visit you in this house?' 'Not in this house,' said Pauline. 'You forget the board at the gate. There is no deception about that. This house is veritably to let, and we are about to leave it as soon as possible.' 'Why?' said Mr. Wetter, interrogatively. 'Why?' interrupted Pauline. 'I forgot to mention that I am not here alone, and that this is not my house. There is another lady with me.' 'O, indeed; another lady?' said Wetter, brightening. 'And who may she be?' The change in his manner was not lost upon Pauline. 'She is a lady who has just lost her husband,' said she coldly. 'Her bereavement is so recent, and she feels it so acutely, that she will see no one, nor will she remain in this house where she lived with him.' 'Poor creature!' said Mr. Wetter, shaking his head. 'No one with any feeling would desire to intrude upon her. And will you continue to live with her when she moves to a new abode?' 'I shall,' said Pauline, still coldly. 'She depends upon me greatly for advice and assistance.' 'And that new abode will be--?' he asked insinuatingly. 'I cannot say at present,' she replied; 'nothing is decided. We have, indeed, scarcely had time to look out.'