She approached with her usual panther-like grace and supple movement, her red lips parted in a charming smile.

"So good of you to come!" she began, holding out her two hands as though she invited an embrace; "and on Christmas morning too!" She paused, and seeing that I did not move or speak, she regarded me with some alarm. "What is the matter?" she asked, in fainter tones; "has anything happened?"

I looked at her. I saw that she was full of sudden fear, I made no attempt to soothe her, I merely placed a chair.

"Sit down," I said, gravely. "I am the bearer of bad news."

She sunk into the chair as though unnerved, and gazed at me with terrified eyes. She trembled. Watching her keenly, I observed all these outward signs of trepidation with deep satisfaction. I saw plainly what was passing in her mind. A great dread had seized her--the dread that I had found out her treachery. So indeed I had, but the time had not yet come for her to know it. Meanwhile she suffered--suffered acutely with that gnawing terror and suspense eating into her soul. I said nothing, I waited for her to speak. After a pause, during which her cheeks had lost their delicate bloom, she said, forcing a smile as she spoke-"Bad news? You surprise me! What can it be? Some unpleasantness with Guido? Have you seen him?"