ndertake
to open the book again.'

"'Then,' she faltered, and an absolute terror grew in her eyes, 'you are
going to leave her. She is going to be free, and--' The white cheeks
grew scarlet. She evidently feared that she had shown me her heart.

"Affected, but irresolute still, I took her hand and carried it to my
lips.

"'Let me thank you,' said I, 'for glimpses into a nature so noble and
womanly that I am saved in this hour from cursing all womankind.'

"Ah, how she sighed.

"'You are good,' she murmured. 'You have deserved a better fate. But it
is the lot of goodness and truth ever to meet with misappreciation and
disdain. Here, here, only,' and she struck her breast with her clenched
right hand, 'lie the rewards for honesty, long-suffering, and
tenderness. In the world without there is nothing.'

"Tears, which I could not restrain, welled up to my eyes. I could never
have wept for my own suffering, but for hers it seemed both natural and
real. Ah, why had she thrown the treasures of her heart away upon a
fool? Why had she given the trust of her heart to a villain? I opened my
lips to speak; she saw his name faltering on my tongue, and stopped me.

"'Don't!' she breathed. 'I know what you would say and I cannot bear it.
I was motherless, fatherless, almost friendless, and I relied upon the
wisdom of an aunt, whose judgment was, perhaps, not all that it should
have been. But it is too late now for regrets. I have launched my boat,
and it must sail on; only--you are an honest man and will respect my
confidence--was it Mr. Urquhart I saw on the outskirts of the crowd
to-day?'

"I bowed. I knew she had not asked because she had any doubts as to the
fact of his being there, but because she wanted to see if I had
recognized him and owed any of my misery to that fact.

"'It was he,' said I, and said no more.

"The mask fell from her countenance. She clasped her hands together till
they showed white as marble.

"'Oh! we are four miserable ones!' she cried. 'He--'

"It was my turn to stop her.

"'I would rather you did not say it,' I exclaimed. 'I can bear much, but
not to hear another person utter words that will force me to think of
the dagger I carry always in my breast. Besides, we may be mistaken.' I
did not believe it, but I forced myself to say it. 'She declares he is
nothing to her, and if that is so, you might wish to have kept silent.'

"'She says! Ah! can you believe her? do you?'

"'I must--or g