As the carriage rolled homewards on the Bath Road, Lady Standish, both hands folded over the mysterious letter, sat staring out of the window with unseeing eyes. The dawn had begun to break upon a cloudless sky; the air was chill and brisk; mists wreathed white scarves over the fields. She felt conscious in every fibre of her being that Sir Jasper was eagerly contemplating her in the cold grey light. Heart and brain were in a turmoil; the anguish, the violent emotions, the successive scenes of the last forty-eight hours passed again before her mind like a phantasmagoria. Partly because of Mistress Bellairs\'s advice and partly because of a certain womanly resentment, which, gentle as she was, still reared itself within her, she did not even cast a look upon her husband, but sat mutely, gazing at the land. Presently she became aware that he had slid an arm behind her waist. She trembled a little, but did not turn to him.

"Julia," said he, in a muffled uncertain tone, "Julia, I—I have done you injustice." Then, for jealousy is as ill to extinguish as a fire that smoulders, a flame of the evil passion leaped up again with him. "But you must admit," said he, "that I had cause. Your own words, I may say your own confession——"

Lady Standish turned her head, lifted heavy lids and for a moment fixed upon him the most beautiful eyes in the world.

"Nay," said she, "I made no confession." Her tongue trembled upon other protestations, yet Kitty\'s warning carried the day.

"Tell me," said he, and bent to her, "tell me was it Lord Verney after all?"

Lady Standish again raised her eyes to his face, and could such a thing have been possible in a creature whose very being was all tenderness, he would have sworn that in her gaze there was contempt.

"Sir Jasper," said she, "it never was Lord Verney!" And then she added: "Has there not been enough of this?"

As she spoke she moved her hands and involuntarily looked down at the letter she held. Then she sat as if turned to stone. The letter was in Sir Jasper\'s writing and addressed to Mistress Bellairs!

"What have you there?" cried he.

"Nay," said she, "I know not, for \'tis not my letter. But you will know." And she held it up to him, and her hand did not tremble, yet was a cold fear upon her. "You wrote it," she said. He stared and his countenance changed, utter discomposure fell upon him.

"Julia," cried he, "Julia, upon my honour! I swear \'twas nothing, less than nothing, a mere idle bit of gallantry—a jest!" As he spoke he fell upon one knee in the chaise, at her feet.

"Then I may read it?" said she.

"Ah, Julia!" cried he, and encircled her with his arms. She felt the straining eagerness of his grasp, she felt his heart beat stormily. With a sudden warmth she knew that after all his love was hers.

Then she had an inspiration, one worthy of a cleverer woman: but love has his own geniuses. She disengaged herself from his embrace and put the letter into his hand.

"Take it," said she.

"Julia," he cried, and shook from head to foot, and the tears sprang to ............