"To trace the source of a false report is always difficult," I said. "Somebody surmises something and tells some one else, and the second person, in recounting it, declares the surmise to be the truth. It is almost always so." "There certainly could be no motive in saying that Ella was dead, as far as I can see," Lucie declared. "But," she added, "why let us worry about the past? You have come back to us--back really from the grave." "Yes," I said, still holding her hand. "I believed, Ella, that you were dead long ago. The memory of that last night when we walked through the wet streets of Bayswater has ever remained a bitter one." "No, no," she cried. "Do not recall it. I, too, have suffered agonies of regret. Why is it that we meet again--like this?" and I noted that her splendid eyes were turned upon her friend in askance. Yes. She suspected that Lucie and I were lovers, and such a conclusion was, after all, but natural. "You are surprised, no doubt, to meet us together," laughed Lucie. "But if you knew the truth regarding our acquaintance you would be even more surprised." "Then Godfrey is not--" "He is certainly not my lover," she exclaimed. "I may as well make that quite clear to you at once, dear. We came here because he had something to explain to me, and we naturally had no desire that the villagers should gossip." My Ella turned again to me, and I saw that all anxiety had faded from her beautiful countenance. She was sweet and smiling--her old delightful self again. What had happened in those years I knew not. My love might be married, for aught I knew. She wore gloves, therefore I could not tell if her hand bore a wedding ring. She made no mention of Blumenthal, and I could not well inquire of him. So we were both of us somewhat restrained, neither knowing of the exact position of the other. I only knew that all the great passion I had entertained for her swelled within my heart, filling it to overflowing. The touch of her had thrilled me and I longed to kiss those sweet red lips once again--to repeat to her my love and to assure her that I was still unchanged. But with Lucie present I could say nothing. I could ask no question, nor could I make any declaration. Yet in those few moments I had been lifted from the depths of despair and despondency to the pinnacle of happiness. Ella, my well-beloved, still lived! And while she lived she was still mine in heart, even though, perish the thought, she might be wife of another.