el injustice, Love, for, besides
depriving you of a bride to-day, she has cheated you out of your
inheritance. Remember, unless you are married to-day, your fortune
reverts to me!"

He bowed in silence, and Mrs. Ellsworth added, nervously:

"No wonder you are stricken dumb by the magnitude of your misfortune,
losing everything that made life worth living, as it were. But cheer up,
my dear boy, for I am not so selfish as to wish to deprive you of your
fortune; and as soon as I heard that Dainty had eloped with another, I
began to plan to help you, and I soon saw that there was a way out of
your difficulty."

"Yes?" Love said, inquiringly, and his pale lips curled with a sneer
whose subtle meaning she could not understand; but taking it for
encouragement, she blurted out, boldly:

"The preacher is here, the people are here, and the wedding-breakfast
waits. You can vanquish fate if you will. Though Dainty is gone, I have
two other nieces."

Again that cold, scornful smile as she added, desperately:

"I see that Dainty advises you here to marry either Olive or Ela. Well,
you can have either one for the asking."

His pale, writhing lips unclosed to ask, curtly:

"Are you speaking with their permission?"

"Yes," she replied, eagerly and hopefully, feeling sure that he must
capitulate now and yield to her wishes. It was better to marry the
wrong girl than lose such a princely fortune. It was impossible that he
should hesitate over such a question.

She waited, almost confident of his answer, only wondering which he
would choose--Olive, who was her secret preference, or the equally
pretty Ela.

But he was slow in making his choice. Suddenly sitting upright, he gazed
curiously at her excited face several minutes without replying, until
the silence grew irksome, and she cried, with veiled impatience:

"I do not wish to hurry you, Love, but you must see for yourself how
important it is that you should make a speedy decision. The bishop and
the guests are waiting for the wedding, and unless it comes off soon the
breakfast will be spoiled."

Slowly Love got upon his feet, and steadying his trembling frame by a
hand on the back of a chair, startled her with the mocking words:

"You have plotted cleverly, madame, but you have lost the game. Neither
Olive nor Ela will ever be bride of mine!"

Her eyes flashed in her pale face, and she said, insolently:

"Very well, then; I am the mistress of Ellsworth, and you a pau