ent a
rapid change. I ceased to look forward to his coming. I got in time to
actually dread it. Instead of taking pleasure in his society, I feared
him. I disliked the little tokens of proprietorship which are common
in the case of an engaged couple. I did not even tell Miss Lewis that
we were engaged, though I believe she looked upon it as an understood
thing. In fact, I suppose it would not have done for me to see so much
of George otherwise. Neither did I dare to tell her of the aversion
which had begun to replace my former feelings towards him. To tell the
truth, I was ashamed of it. In common gratitude, after all George had
done for me, I ought not to have allowed myself to feel so. I did try
to check it. I told myself of all his good qualities. I recalled how
long I had known him, and how friendly we had always been. But it was
no use.

'Sometimes he seemed to realise that I was alienated by his passionate
displays. Then he would return for awhile to his old manner, and be
cheerful and cynical with me. Then my confidence in him returned, and
I enjoyed his company. But this would not last long. When I was least
expecting it, he would break into a strain of what I can only call
love-frenzy, and disturb me more than ever.

'It was impossible for me to hide what was going on in my mind from
him always. He began to find out that I avoided him. Instead of openly
coming and calling for me to go out with him, he took to lying in wait
as it were, and joining me when I was out by myself. Of course nothing
was said between us. I did not complain of his stratagems, and he did
not complain of my excuses. But I think we understood each other.

'Then he managed to get Miss Lewis on his side. He used to come into
the room where we both were and give me an invitation for a walk or
sail or other excursion in his company. And if I tried to get out of
it, he appealed to Miss Lewis to give me leave, and, of course, she
then urged me to go. The way in which he went to work inspired me with
a queer sort of admiration for him. I thought that he showed powers of
intrigue that would have made him a great man if he had been able to
apply them on some vast stage.'

'Yes, yes,' said Prescott, as she paused a few moments for breath; 'he
has great ability, strange powers in many things, but----'

He shrugged his shoulders, and turned a pitying eye on Eleanor. He had
known Tressamer well enough to be able to understand her experience.

Sh