ed the first motion, and repeated her desire for him to leave
her; saying, cheerfully--

'Good night, dear; I dare say we shan't meet till the morning.'

'You can't let this injustice continue a single night, Louisa?' said he.

She was deep in the business of arrangeing a portion of her attire.

'Go-go; please,' she responded.

Lingering, he said: 'If I go, it will be straight to Lady Jocelyn.'

She stamped angrily.

'Only go!' and then she found him gone, and she stooped lower to the
glass, to mark if the recent agitation were observable under her eyes.
There, looking at herself, her heart dropped heavily in her bosom. She
ran to the door and hurried swiftly after Evan, pulling him back
speechlessly.

'Where are you going, Evan?'

'To Lady Jocelyn.'

The unhappy victim of her devotion stood panting.

'If you go, I--I take poison!' It was for him now to be struck; but he
was suffering too strong an anguish to be susceptible to mock tragedy.
The Countess paused to study him. She began to fear her brother. 'I
will!' she reiterated wildly, without moving him at all. And the quiet
inflexibility of his face forbade the ultimate hope which lies in giving
men a dose of hysterics when they are obstinate. She tried by taunts and
angry vituperations to make him look fierce, if but an instant, to
precipitate her into an exhibition she was so well prepared for.

'Evan! what! after all my love, my confidence in you--I need not have
told you--to expose us! Brother? would you? Oh!'

'I will not let this last another hour,' said Evan, firmly, at the same
time seeking to caress her. She spurned his fruitless affection, feeling,
nevertheless, how cruel was her fate; for, with any other save a brother,
she had arts at her disposal to melt the manliest resolutions. The glass
showed her that her face was pathetically pale; the tones of her voice
were rich and harrowing. What did they avail with a brother? 'Promise
me,' she cried eagerly, 'promise me to stop here--on this spot-till I
return.'

The promise was extracted. The Countess went to fetch Caroline. Evan did
not count the minutes. One thought was mounting in his brain-the scorn of
Rose. He felt that he had lost her. Lost her when he had just won her! He
felt it, without realizing it. The first blows of an immense grief are
dull, and strike the heart through wool, as it were. The belief of the
young in their sorrow has to be flogged into them, on the good old
education