sight of Frank, his gaunt cheeks, which told their tale of sufifering, and now the deadly pallor, awoke all the protective feeling which is a part of a woman's love. It was with her whole soul in her voice that she said again:
"Frank!" His voice was stern as well as sad as he answered her:
"What is it?" Her heart went cold, but she persevered.
"Frank, I must have a word with you—I must. For God's sake, for Ronny's sake, do not deny me." She did not know that as yet Frank Onslow was in ignorance of De Mürger's death; and when his answer came it seemed more hard than even he intended:
"Do you wish to speak of that night?" In a faint voice she answered:
"I do." Then looking in his eyes and seeing the hard look becoming harder still—for a man is seldom generous with a woman where his honor is concerned, she added:
"O Heaven! Frank! You do not think me guilty! No, no, not you! not you! That would be too cruel!"
Frank Onslow paused and said:
"Fenella, God help me! but I do," and he turned away his head. His wife, of course, thought that he alluded to the murder, and not to her sin against him as he saw it, and with a low moan she turned away and hid her face in her
