its very memory a thing of contempt to him who had
ravished it from worship. The living Harley and the dead Nora--both
called aloud to their joint despoiler, "Restore what thou hast taken
from us, or pay the forfeit!"

Thus, then, during the interview between Helen and Leonard, thus Harley
L'Estrange sat alone! and as a rude irregular lump of steel, when
wheeled round into rapid motion, assumes the form of the circle it
describes, so his iron purpose, hurried on by his relentless passion,
filled the space into which he gazed with optical delusions, scheme
after scheme revolving and consummating the circles that clasped a foe.

CHAPTER XV.

The entrance of a servant, announcing a name which Harley, in the
absorption of his gloomy revery, did not hear, was followed by that of a
person on whom he lifted his eyes in the cold and haughty surprise
with which a man much occupied greets and rebukes the intrusion of an
unwelcome stranger.

"It is so long since your Lordship has seen me," said the visitor, with
mild dignity, "that I cannot wonder you do not recognize my person, and
have forgotten my name."

"Sir," answered Harley, with an impatient rudeness, ill in harmony with
the urbanity for which he was usually distinguished,--"sir, your person
is strange to me, and your name I did not hear; but, at all events, I am
not now at leisure to attend to you. Excuse my plainness."

"Yet pardon me if I still linger. My name is Dale. I was formerly curate
at Lansmere; and I would speak to your Lordship in the name and the
memory of one once dear to you,--Leonora Avenel."

HARLEY (after a short pause).--"Sir, I cannot conjecture your business.
But be seated. I remember you now, though years have altered both, and
I have since heard much in your favour from Leonard Fairfield. Still let
me pray, that you will be brief."

MR. DALE.--"May I assume at once that you have divined the parentage
of the young man you call Fairfield? When I listened to his grateful
praises of your beneficence, and marked with melancholy pleasure
the reverence in which he holds you, my heart swelled within me. I
acknowledged the mysterious force of nature."

HARLEY.--"Force of nature! You talk in riddles."

MR. DALE (indignantly).--"Oh, my Lord, how can you so disguise your
better self? Surely in Leonard Fairfield you have long since recognized
the son of Nora Avenel?"

Harley passed his hand over his face. "Ah," thought he, "she lived to
bear