WHEN Miss Carrington returned from her visit to her friend, she determined to watch her young sister-in-law with the Argus eyes of suspicion. She assumed more dignity, was colder and less sympa. thetic, always took care to be in the way when she came in from her walks and drives, in case that dangerous man, in whose actions Miss Carrington felt a considerably heightened interest, should put in an appearance as well.

Gwendoline was very sorry Valentine had ever written to her as he had done; she could not forget his words; and though she resolved to banish him and never give him another chance of meeting her, she felt less resentment than pain at his conduct, and this always acts and reacts on a pliant sensitive nature. Gwendoline, too, found it difficult to always resist inward promptings. There was too much intensity in her nature to make her indifferent or philosophic, and the thought of Valentine unexpectedly appearing before her brought about a feverish state of mind, and an indefinable weariness that made her life a constant struggle. Every emotional wo

VOL. XXXI.

man unconsciously has something of a chameleon in her nature: she is affected by contact, by the effect of surroundings, and she is moulded by influences.

Lionel held her heart, though the past sometimes saddened her; but love is always stronger and more wonderful than passion. Valentine, on his part, was not inclined to be so patient. He read his answer in her silence and avoidance of him; he waited for some reply, some sign she remembered, as a shipwrecked sailor for the glimpse of a pennant in a dim horizon; but her husband could not dispense with his aid, and often sought his company. Valentine invariably made some excuse when Lionel asked him to dinner, glorying in the sense of his own growing power and importance; but at last the conflict grew beyond his control. He had watched Gwendoline from afar at the Opera, theatres, and a world-renowned fancy fair, where celebrated beauties rivalled each other, and he thought her the fairest of them all, not daring, however, to approach her or risk her displeasure. He could not make up his mind to leave

GG

England without a final personal interview, in which he must rely on carrying everything by a coup de main, and so work on her mood that one leap would seem the same as another; and on the result of that interview must hang her husband's fate.

He rode leisurely through the Row this morning, wondering if he should meet her among the crowd of équestriennes, but he caught no glimpse of her anywhere; then he turned into the Bayswaterroad, dismounted before her house, flung the reins to his groom, and noticed, as he ascended the steps, that the hall door was unclosed. He pushed it gently open, startling the butler, who was reading the Morning Post by the stove.

'I believe my mistress is in, sir,' he said, marshalling Valentine towards the smaller drawing-room.

Miss Carrington heard footsteps, and went at once towards Gwendoline's morning-room

The butler handed his mistress the card as Letitia entered, who briefly read the name and address and threw it aside.

Gwendoline started a little, unconscious of the close scrutiny that was being given her expression.

'Tell him that I am not at home,' she said quietly, opening a book at her side. Then quickly, as the butler withdrew, 'You know, Letitia, we cannot have our drive spoilt, can we ?'

'I don't know, I'm sure,' said Letitia coldly, admiring the buttons on her Bective costume,' that it is ever wise to speak an untruth, especially before servants. How can we reprove them for evil, if we sin equally?'

'O' cried Gwendoline, the colour rushing to her brow, 'it's the usual society formula, when we don't want to be disturbed. I've learnt all the forms.'

In the mean time Mdlle. Josephine had appeared and drawn Valentine into the library, virtually to write a letter.

'Is this checkmate for good?' he said angrily, after the message had been delivered. She refuses to see me. How did she take my letter ?'

I do not know, monsieur; but if-if you really do mean to see her, I can arrange it now. Come with me to her boudoir; she passes through it to dress for her drive.'

And this was the trusty servant chosen by a fond observant mother for her child's good!

'Yes, I will,' he said bitterly, thinking of Lionel and feeling himself master of the situation. Never did a man more sincerely bless the fluctuating state of the foreign markets. And what do you think she will do?' he asked, leaning against the mantelpiece and looking round somewhat confusedly.

'She is Engleshe, she is therefore strange, excentrique,' said the other, with a shrug, in a hissing murmur, disappointed at the turn affairs were taking; the romance hardly savoured of a page of the Decameron. Hein, monsieur, she is coming!'

He went towards the window, bending his riding-whip in half in his nervousness, and looked down on to the flower decked terrace below. Then he walked across the room and deliberately locked the door, putting the key in his pocket.

'She shall hear me this time,' he muttered, with a dreamy feeling of bliss and content, as if again about to live through old scenes and memories-the misty but beloved

past.

Gwendoline uttered a short broken cry at sight of him; her agitated gaze wandered to his fea

tures, as if she could scarcely realise the truth.

'Why have you dared to seek me here,' she cried, in a low tense voice, in defiance of my wishes, my prayers? Do not approach me or speak, but leave the house, and for ever!'

Valentine, standing with his back against the wall, turned, coolly locked the other door, and held her hands as in a vice.

'I intend to speak to you and say what I please, and you shall hear me; both of those doors are locked and the keys are here. O, yes; you have avoided me, you have been very worldly, very prudent, quite worthy of the training you have had; but if you ring or call for assistance, we shall have a scene, a scandal. Better be quiet and listen to me!'

He released her hands and threw himself into a low armchair, a suppressed and almost sullen desperation in his voice and manner which, for all their quietness, alarmed and bewildered her.

'Did you read my letter?' he asked. 'Had you only written me one little line, one kind sentence, in reply, it would not have been so hard to bear.'

'I am sorry you have made me despise you. How could you expect an answer? I could not write what must be vilest treachery to another.'

I cannot forget you, madam; that is all.'

'What, then, is your honouryour affection worth, that you seek my destruction?' she cried hoarsely, rising and standing before him.

All this is more cruel than your hatred. I begged you to go away -to leave me for ever, and you promised in that letter-faithfully promised-you would do so.'

'Your husband has asked me to remain; he needs my aid. But enough of this; we won't talk of business here in a lady's boudoir.

I have come to hold you to your word-to plead with you for the last time. Leave England with me to-day. I have everything ready for our flight. For a moment there was profound silence profound silence She was too astounded, too overwhelmed to reply. 'And then,' his voice sinking to that murmur which was a caress, all this pain will end for both of us.'

'You are very cruel,' she said, shrinking away, and paler than before, and must be mad as well to talk to me like this.'

'Try and remember all I once was to you. Merciful God! have you no remembrance-no pity?'

She realised her danger then; a convulsive tremor passed over her. What was this awful fascination that might grow too strong for resist

ance,

that compelled her to own his mastery? She knew their meeting must end, and at once; and this growing agitation, which might mean weakness, roused her to make fresh efforts to retain her self control.

'I will not listen to you any longer,' she said, in a firm low voice. I insist on your unlocking that door and letting me go. Am I a prisoner in my own house?'

A shudder swept through him; his face looked white and tortured ere he spoke again.

'O Valentine,' she whispered, seeing that he suffered, no one is really worth sinning for no one; and you you can have so many pleasures.'

He lifted his head, unmoved by her pleading.

And if it is in my power to take away your home, to strip the walls of those valuable paintings, to make your husband a broken merchant, a bankrupt and a beggar-what then? . . . I could ruin him at a word.'

'You mean us,' she said, her head erect, her heart beating to suffocation, flinging away his hand

as though it were an asp. 'Another proof of your honour, your chivalry, your friendship! But my place will then still be at his side, for IGod help me!-will have been instrumental in that ruin.'

'Did you think I meant it ?' he said passionately, throwing himself by her side, feverish entreaty in his voice. 'Can you understand the anguish of daily-baffled hopes? My dearest, listen; I love you. I want you to come to me, to be my wife when the law permits. I will settle all my fortune on you. I will make your life a heaven; and what does it matter what the world thinks of us? Our past justifies us in loving now... You gave me your heart once, and if the world and society-which I believe you care for-blame us, we can take refuge in our love; we will rear such ramparts of tenderness that the stones they throw from afar will not harm us; fortune, life, love, all are yours, and I will save Lionel's credit.'

She remained silent; her face buried in her hands, overwhelmed with grief and fear. Was it indeed through her he had sought her husband's ruin ? For a moment the vision of Lionel penniless and friendless darted through her mind, and almost interrupted consciousness. The thought of her abandonment of the man whose downfall might be caused through another's hatred, of the husband whose concentrated power and nobleness appealed to her imagination and reverence, strengthened the sanctity of their union. sity, ingratitude, and caprice had. never seemed so repulsive to her as now. "Have I not suffered enough?' she murmured; and if this blow which you threaten falls, the cup of my sorrow will be full indeed. You want me to die.'

Fal

'Ah! you have found that one love extinguishes another. You

care for him, and you are selfish, like all your sex. You will not save me from hell; you will destroy us both. . . . Yes, hate is strong; it gives courage, ingenuity, daring. I was only a careless light-hearted soldier till I learnt to hate; but the clever clever man of business has been, after all, ensnared, and is now at my mercy; for hatred is a living force to itself, and has a genius of its own.'

He rose, abhorring himself for his crime and treachery, but goaded beyond himself by the tumult within. Can he ever forget her voice, her eyes, her lips, or the warm breathing life of her wild sea-born loveliness?

But the old unconscious sympathy between them, the fatal magnetism, had changed. He saw she was lost to him forever. His yearning changed into dull despair. And Miss Carrington, with suspended breath, on her knees before the boudoir door, and one well opened eye at the keyhole, had tried in vain to turn that painted handle ever so softly, discovering at last that they were indeed locked in.

She could have prayed, such was her excitement and horror, had not her curiosity been too keenly aroused. Lionel should hear of this; it was past all endurance; an elegantly-minded spinster, who always took the very worst view of men and things, saw her sister-inlaw's reputation gone. Spare the wicked creature? Not likely! Letitia's excitement was such she had but the faintest notion of what was said; but she could see his feet, and the gold handle of his ridingwhip, and no cat ever watched a mouse with closer eagerness than Miss Carrington, through the keyhole, every movement of those magnificent patent leather boots.

Gwendoline's eyes met his as if she were his good angel pleading

with him. I am quite certain that, wild as are your words, you do not mean to work him harm. I know you too well for that,' she said gently.

And have you forgotten everything our parting in the avenue, your words when you told me you would never change? I have lived for months on their memory.'

'When I knew you were swept out of my path for ever, I suffered at first in a vague terrible way. I fancied my life must remain for ever in ruins, and resolved to bear the burden as best I could.'

She paused and hesitated slightly, and he read her nature and meaning, and saw that, through her loving unselfishness towards her parents, a blessing had at last come to her borne by angels; that out of the cold dark shadow of loss a light had issued reflecting one image, and that her husband's. Perhaps her spirit had divined that her first love was an idol of grosser coarser clay than Lionel, and awoke later on to a sense of having been deluded.

'Life is so strange,' she said with a smile; it is like a great puzzle, which if we try to solve only entangles and bewilders us still more.

When I took an oath at the altar before God to be true, I should have kept it under any circumstances. Let us be honest and fair to each other; do not for a moment think I cherish any affection for you in secret, or am unhappy, or a martyr. . . . And I want you to put away all these profitless miserable thoughts, and let us be friends.' There was a moment's silence as he came slowly towards Gwendoline, looking white and tired.

'Then it's good-bye at last, and I must go away alone,' he said, with a short hard laugh. Won't you shake hands ?'

6

He unlocked one of the doors,

and flung both the keys on the table. The next minute she was clasped in his arms; he drew her passionately to his breast, his burning lips pressed to hers. 'That is my farewell,' he said, slowly releasing her. It was no use to struggle, was it? Well, I have kissed you again and again, but for the last time; during all the long years when we may never meet you will have time to forgive. O, love! pardon, pardon!' He flung himself before her as a sudden faintness threatened to rob her of reason-a sense of desolation, of irrevocable loss, deepening his gloom, as he saw the blanched face with its proud pure light turned from him with what he thought was aversion and disgust.

She could see his eyes were dim and full of tears as he passed from her sight, and with a low sobbing cry she hurried from the room.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

NEWS FROM CHINA.

'I'll have my bond; I will not hear thee speak.'

DAYS went on, and nothing was further heard or seen of Valentine. Reginald had advised him to have a change of air, and enjoy the many privileges his great wealth afforded him. He tried to find distraction at Hurlingham, and fall in love with a distractingly pretty little girl over lawn-tennis and cream ices, accepting her mother's invitation to join a boating-party on the river; but Valentine, unfortunately, could not be thus consoled. The girl was too full of conceit and pretension to charm him, and even her babyish dimples suggested nothing to his imagination; for it had been Gwendoline's naturalness and the absence of anything