negade and a
traitor; and every instinct of loyalty to the man--that male solidarity
of sex which will never permit one man--if he be a gentleman--to betray
another--prompted him to hold his peace.

Crystal's gentle voice fell like dream-tones upon his ear. Vaguely only
did he hear what she said. She was still speaking of France, of all that
the country had suffered and all that was due to her from her sons and
daughters: she spoke of the King, God's own anointed as she called him,
endowed with rights divine, and all the while his thoughts were far
away, flying on the wings of memory to the little hamlet among the
mountains where two enthusiasts had exhausted every panegyric in praise
of their own hero, whom this girl called a usurper and a brigand. He
remembered every trait in de Marmont's face, every inflexion of his
voice as he said with almost cruel cynicism: "She will learn to love me
in time."

That, Clyffurde knew now, Crystal de Cambray would never do. Indifferent
to de Marmont to-day, she would hate and loathe him the day that she
discovered how infamously he had deceived her: and to Clyffurde's
passionate temperament the thought of Crystal's future unhappiness was
absolutely intolerable.

Here indeed was a battle far more strenuous and difficult of issue than
that of a man's will against his passions: here was a problem far more
difficult to solve than any that had assailed Bobby Clyffurde throughout
his life.

His heart cried out "She must know the truth: she must. To-day! this
minute, while there was yet time! Anon she will be pledged irrevocably
to a man who has lied to her, whom she will curse as a renegade, a
traitor, false to his country, false to his king!"

And the words hovered on his lips: "Mademoiselle Crystal! do not plight
your troth to de Marmont! he is no friend of yours, his people are not
your people! his God is not your God! and there is neither blessing nor
holiness in an union 'twixt you and him!"

But the words remained unspoken, because the unwritten code--the bond
'twixt man and man--tried to still this natural cry of his heart and
reason argued that he must hold his peace. His heart rebelled,
contending that to remain silent was cowardly--that his first duty was
to the woman whom he loved better than his soul, whilst ingrained
principles, born and bred in the bone of him, threw themselves into the
conflict, warning him that if he spoke he would be no better than an
informer, mer