“Henry,”—­her voice had changed to one more natural, also her manner.  The confidence expressed in this outburst, the vitality, the masculine attitude he took were producing their effect.  “You don’t believe in what I saw or in my fears.  Perhaps you are right.  I am ready to acknowledge this; I will try to look upon it all as a freak of my imagination if you will promise to forget these dreadful days, and if people, other people, will leave me alone and not print such things about me.”

“I am ready to do my part,” was his glad reply, “and as for the other people you mention, we shall soon bring them to book.”  Raising his voice, he called out his secretary’s name.  As it rang loud and cheery down the hall, the joy and renewed life which had been visible in her manner lost some of their brightness.

“What are you going to do?” she gasped, with the quickness of doubt and strong if reasonless apprehension.  “Give an order,” he explained; then, as the secretary appeared at our end of the hall, he held out the journal which he had taken from his wife and indicating the offensive paragraph, said: 

“Find out who did that.”

Mr. Steele with a surprised look ran his eyes over the paragraph, knitting his brows as he did.

“It is calumny,” fell from Mrs. Packard’s lips as she watched him.

“Most certainly,” he assented, with an energy which brought a flush of pleasure to the humiliated woman’s cheek.  “It will detain me two days or more to follow up this matter,” he remarked, with a look of inquiry directed at Mayor Packard.

“Never mind.  Two days or a week, it is all one.  I would rather lose votes than pass over such an insult.  Pin me down the man who has dared attack me through my wife, and you will do me the greatest favor one man can show another.”

Mr. Steele bowed.  “I can not forego the final consultation we had planned to hold on the train.  May I ride down with you to the station?”

“Certainly; most happy.”

Mr. Steele withdrew, after casting a glance of entirely respectful sympathy at the woman who up to this hour had faced the world without a shadow between her and it; and, marking the lingering nature of the look with which the mayor now turned on his wife, I followed the secretary’s example and left them to enjoy their few last words alone.

Verily the pendulum of events swung wide and fast in this house.

This conclusion was brought back to me with fresh insistence a few minutes later, when, on hearing the front door shut, I stepped to the balustrade and looked over to see if Mrs. Packard was coming up.  She was not, for I saw her go into the library; but plainly on the marble pavement below, just where we had all been standing, in fact, I perceived the piece of paper she had brought with her from the dining-room and had doubtless dropped in the course of the foregoing conversation.

Running down in great haste, I picked it up.  This scrap of I knew not what, but which had been the occasion of the enigmatic scene I had witnessed at the breakfast-table, necessarily interested me very much and I could not help giving it a look.  I saw that it was inscribed with Hebraic-looking characters as unlike as possible to the scrawl of a little child.