or Frances Seymour's hands. She comprehended
enough of Major Elliott's character to see that all was over. But for
the unfortunate jest they had practised on him, an explanation would
necessarily have ensued the moment he mentioned Vincent's name to her;
but that unlucky deception had complicated the mischief beyond repair.
It was too late now to tell him that she did not love Vincent; he
would only think her false or fickle. A woman who could act as she had
done, or as she appeared to have done, was no wife for Henry Elliott.

There is no saying, but it is just possible, that an entire confidence
placed in Mr Gaskoin might have led to a happier issue; but her own
conviction that her position was irrecoverable, her hopelessness and
her pride, closed her lips. Her friends saw that there was something
wrong; and when a few lines from Major Elliott announced his immediate
departure for Paris, they concluded that some strange mystery had
divided the lovers, and clouded the hopeful future that for a short
period had promised so brightly.

Vincent Dunbar was not a man to break his heart at the disappointment
which, it is needless to say, awaited him. Long years afterwards, when
Sir Henry Elliott was not only married, but had daughters coming out
in the world, he, one day at a dinner-party, sat next a pale-faced,
middle-aged lady, whose still beautiful features, combined with the
quiet, almost grave elegance of her toilet, had already attracted his
attention in the drawing-room. It was a countenance of perfect
serenity; but no observing eye could look at it without feeling that
that was a serenity not born of joy, but of sadness--a calm that had
succeeded a storm--a peace won by a great battle. Sir Henry felt
pleased when he saw that the fortunes of the dinner-table had placed
him beside this lady, and they had not been long seated before he took
an opportunity of addressing her. Her eyelids fell as she turned to
answer him; but there was a sweet, mournful smile on her lip--a smile
that awoke strange recollections, and made his heart for a moment
stand still. For some minutes he did not speak again, nor she either;
when he did, it was to ask her, in a low, gentle voice, to take wine
with him. The lady's hand shook visibly as she raised her glass; but,
after a short interval, the surprise and the pang passed away, and
they conversed calmly on general subjects, like other people in
society.

When Sir Henry returned to the dra