for the next two days louie could not imagine what sudden change had come so inexplicably over harry pallant. he was quite as tender and as gentle as ever, but so silent, sad, and incomprehensible. louie coaxed him and petted him in vain; the more she made of him the more harry seemed to retreat within himself, and the less could she understand what on earth he was thinking of.

on the thursday night, when harry came back from his work in the city, he said to louie in an off-hand tone, "louie, i think of running down to-morrow to dear old bilborough."

"what for, darling?"

"well, you know, i've been fearfully out of sorts lately—worried or something—and i think three or four days at the seaside would be all the better for me—and for you too, darling. let's go to the red lion, louie. i've telegraphed down to-night for rooms, and i dare say—i shall get rid there of whatever's troubling me."

the red lion at bilborough was the hotel at which they had passed their honeymoon, and where they had often gone at various times since for their summer holiday. louie was delighted at the proposed trip, and smoothed her husband's hair softly with her hand.

"my darling," she said, "i'm so glad you're going there. i've noticed for the last few days you looked fagged and worried. but bilborough's just the right place. bilborough always sets you up again."[pg 290]

harry smiled a faint, unhappy smile. "i've no doubt," he answered evasively, "i shall leave all my trouble behind at bilborough."

they started by the early train next day, louie hastily packing their little portmanteau overnight, and got down to bilborough before noon. as soon as they were fairly settled in at the lion, harry kissed his wife tenderly, and, with a quiet persistence in his voice said, on a sudden, "louie, i think i shall go and have a swim before lunch-time."

"a swim, harry! so soon?—already?"

"yes," harry answered, with a twitching mouth, and looking at her nervously. "there's nothing like a swim you know, louie, to wash away the cobwebs of london."

"well, don't be long, darling," louie said, with some undisguised anxiety. "i've ordered lunch, remember, for one."

"for one, louie?" harry cried with a start. "why for one, dearest? i don't understand you.... oh, i see. how very stupid of me! yes, yes, i'll be back by one o'clock.... that is to say, if i'm not back, don't you wait lunch for me."

he moved uneasily to the door, and then he turned back again with a timid glance, and drew a newspaper slowly from his pocket. "i've brought down this morning's young people's monitor with me, louie," he said, in a tremulous voice, after a short pause. "i know you sometimes like to see it."

he watched her narrowly to observe the effect, but louie took it from him without a visible tremor. "oh, i'm so glad, harry," she said in her natural tone, without betraying the least excitement. "how awfully kind of you to get it for me! there's something in it i wanted to see about."

something in it she wanted to see about! harry's heart stood still for a second within him! what duplicity![pg 291] what temerity! what a terrible mixture of seeming goodness and perfect composure! and yet it was louie, and he couldn't help loving her! he kissed her once more—a long, hard kiss—upon the forehead, and went out, leaving her there with the paper clasped tightly in her small white fingers. though she said nothing he could see that her fingers trembled as she held it. yes yes, there could be no doubt about it; she was eagerly expecting the answer—the fatal answer—the answer to "egeria" in the correspondence column.