thoroughly searched everything that had presented itself to my
notice。 Agreeable or not agreeable； it was plainly of serious
importance to my own interests to go on as I had begun； and
thoroughly to search the book。
I turned over the pages until I came to the first blank leaf。
Seeing that they were all blank leaves from this place to the
end； I lifted the volume by the back； and； as a last measure of
precaution； shook it so as to dislodge any loose papers or cards
which might have escaped my notice between the leaves。
This time my patience was rewarded by a discovery which
indescribably irritated and distressed me。
A small photograph； mounted on a card； fell out of the book。 A
first glance showed me that it represented the portraits of two
persons。
One of the persons I recognized as my husband。
The other person was a woman。
Her face was entirely unknown to me。 She was not young。 The
picture represented her seated on a chair； with my husband
standing behind； and bending over her； holding one of her hands
in his。 The woman's face was hard…featured and ugly； with the
marking lines of strong passions and resolute self…will plainly
written on it。 Still； ugly as she was； I felt a pang of jealousy
as I noticed the familiarly affectionate action by which the
artist （with the permission of his sitters； of course） had
connected the two figures in a group。 Eustace had briefly told
me； in the days of our courtship； that he had more than once
fancied himself to be in love before he met with me。 Could this
very unattractive woman have been one of the early objects of his
admiration？ Had she been near enough and dear enough to him to be
photographed with her hand in his？ I looked and looked at the
portraits until I could endure them no longer。 Women are strange
creaturesmysteries even to themselves。 I threw the photograph
from me into a corner of the cupboard。 I was savagely angry with
my husband； I hatedyes； hated with all my heart and soul！the
woman who had got his hand in hersthe unknown woman with the
self…willed； hard…featured face。
All this time the lower shelf of the cupboard was still waiting
to be looked over。
I knelt down to examine it； eager to clear my mind； if I could；
of the degrading jealousy that had got possession of me。
Unfortunately； the lower shelf contained nothing but relics of
the Major's military life； comprising his sword and pistols； his
epaulets； his sash； and other minor accouterments。 None of these
objects excited the slightest interest in me。 My eyes wandered
back to the upper shelf； and； like the fool I was （there is no
milder word that can fitly describe me at that moment）； I took
the photograph out again； and enraged myself uselessly by another
look at it。 This time I observed； what I had not noticed before；
that there were some lines of writing （in a woman's hand） at the
back of the portraits。 The lines ran thus：
'To Major Fitz…David； with two vases。 From his friends； S。 and E。
M。〃
Was one of those two vases the vase that had been broken？ And was
the change that I had noticed in Major Fitz…David's face produced
by some past association in connection with it； which in some way
affected me？ It might or might not be so。 I was little disposed
to indulge in speculation on this topic while the far more
serious question of the initials confronted me on the back of the
photograph。
〃S。 and E。 M。？〃 Those last two letters might stand for the
initials of my husband's namehis true nameEustace Macallan。
In this case the first letter （〃S。〃） in all probability indicated
_her_ name。 What right had she to associate herself with him in
that manner？ I considered a littlemy memory exerted itselfI
suddenly called to mind that Eustace had sisters。 He had spoken
of them more than once in the time before our marriage。 Had I
been mad enough to torture myself with jealousy of my husband's
sister？ It might well be so； 〃S。〃 might stand for his sister's
Christian name。 I felt heartily ashamed of myself as this new
view of the matter dawned on me。 What a wrong I had done to them
both in my thoughts！ I turned the photograph； sadly and
penitently； to examine the portraits again with a kinder and
truer appreciation of them。
I naturally looked now for a family likeness between the two
faces。 There was no family likeness； on the contrary； they were
as unlike each other in form and expression as faces could be。
_Was_ she his sister； after all？ I looked at her hands； as
represented in the portrait。 Her right hand was clasped by
Eustace； her left hand lay on her lap。 On the third finger；
distinctly visible； there was a wedding…ring。 Were any of my
husband's sisters married？ I had myself asked him the question
when he mentioned them to me； and I perfectly remembered that he
had replie d in the negative。
Was it possible that my first jealous instinct had led me to the
right conclusion after all？ If it had； what did the association
of the three initial letters mean？ What did the wedding…ring
mean？ Good Heavens！ was I looking at the portrait of a rival in
my husband's affectionsand was that rival his Wife？
I threw the photograph from me with a cry of horror。 For one
terrible moment I felt as if my reason was giving way。 I don't
know what would have happened； or what I should have done next；
if my love for Eustace had not taken the uppermost place among
the contending emotions that tortured me。 That faithful love
steadied my brain。 That faithful love roused the reviving
influences of my better and nobler sense。 Was the man whom I had
enshrined in my heart of hearts capable of such base wickedness
as the bare idea of his marriage to another woman implied？ No！
Mine was the baseness； mine the wickedness； in having even for a
moment thought it of him！
I picked up the detestable photograph from the floor； and put it
back in the book。 I hastily closed the cupboard door； fetched the
library ladder； and set it against the book…case。 My one idea now
was the idea of taking refuge in employment of any sort from my
own thoughts。 I felt the hateful suspicion that had degraded me
coming back again in spite of my efforts to repel it。 The books！
the books！ my only hope was to absorb myself； body and soul； in
the books。
I had one foot on the ladder； when I heard the door of the room
openthe door which communicated with the hall。
I looked around； expecting to see the Major。 I saw instead the
Major's future prima donna standing just inside the door； with
her round eyes steadily fixed on me。
〃I can stand a good deal；〃 the girl began； coolly； 〃but I can't
stand _this_ any longer？〃
〃What is it that you can't stand any longer？〃 I asked。
〃If you have been here a minute； you have been here two good
hours；〃 she went on。 〃All by yourself in the Major's study。 I am
of a jealous dispositionI am。 And I want to know what it
means。〃 She advanced a few steps nearer to me； with a heightening
color and a threatening look。 〃Is he going to bring _you_ out on
the stage？〃 she asked； sharply。
〃Certainly not。〃
〃He ain't in love with you； is he？〃
Under other circumstances I might have told her to leave the
room。 In my position at that critical moment the mere presence of
a human creature was a positive relief to me。 Even this girl；
with her coarse questions and her uncultivated manners； was a
welcome intruder on my solitude： she offered me a refuge from
myself。
〃Your question is not very civilly put；〃 I said。 〃However； I
excuse you。 You are probably not aware that I am a married
woman。〃
〃What has that got to do with it？〃 she retorted。 〃Married or
single； it's all one to the Major。 That brazen…faced hussy who
calls herself Lady Clarinda is married； and she sends him
nosegays three times a week！ Not that I care； mind you； about the
old fool。 But I've lost my situation at the railway； and I've got
my own interests to look after； and I don't know what may happen
if I let other women come between him and me。 That's where the
shoe pinches； don't you see？ I'm not easy in my mind when I see
him leaving you mistress here to do just what you like。 No
offense！ I speak outI do。 I want to know what you are about all
by yourself in this room？ How did you pick up with the Major？ I
never heard him speak of you before to…day。〃
Under all the surface selfishness and coarseness of this strange
girl there was a certain frankness and freedom which pleaded in
her favorto my mind； at any rate。 I answered frankly and freely
on my side。
〃Major Fitz…David is an old friend of my husband's；〃 I said； 〃and
he is kind to me for my husband's sake。 He has given me
permission to look in this room〃
I stopped； at a loss how to describe my employment in terms which
should tell her nothing； and which should at the same time
successfully set her distrust of me at rest。
〃To look about in this roomfor what？〃 she asked。 Her eye fell
on the library ladder； beside which I was still standing。 〃For a
book？〃 she resumed。
〃Yes；〃 I said； taking the hint。 〃For a book。〃
〃Haven't you found it yet？〃
〃No。〃
She looked hard at me； undisguisedly considering with herself
whether I were or were not speaking the truth。
〃You seem to be a good sort；〃 she said； making up her mind at
last。 〃There's nothing stuck…up about you。 I'll help you if I
can。 I have rummaged among the books here over and over again；
and I know more about them than you do。 What book do you want？〃
As she put that awkward question she noticed for the first time
Lady Clarinda's nosegay lying on the side…table where the Major
had left it。 Instantly forgetting me and my book； this curious
girl pounced like a fury on the flowers； and actually trampled
them under her feet！
〃There！〃 she cried。 〃If I had Lady Clarinda here I'd serve her in
the same way。〃
〃What will the Major say？〃 I asked。
〃What do I care？ Do you suppose I'm afraid of _him？_ Only last
week I broke one of his fine gimcracks up there； and all through
Lady Clarinda and her flowers！〃
She pointed to the top of the book…caseto the empty space on it
close by the window。 My heart gave a sudden bound as my eyes took
the direction indicated by her finger。 _She_ had broken the vase！
Was the way to