resh flowers by Mr. Derringham's bed, she
left the room by the door beyond.

When she had gone it was as if a curtain were raised upon John
Derringham's understanding. Countless circumstances came back to him
when his _fiancee's_ apparent learning had aroused his admiration, and
with a twinge he remembered Cheiron's maliciously amused eyes which had
met his during her visit to the orchard house, when she had become a
little at sea in some of her conversation. The whole thing then was a
colossal bluff--Arabella was the brain! Arabella was the erudite,
cultured person and his admirable Cecilia played the role of extremely
clever parrot! He laughed with bitter cynical merriment until he shook
in his bed.

And he, poor fool, had been taken in by it all--he and a number of
others. He was in company at all events! Then he saw another aspect, and
almost admired the woman for her audacity. What nerve to play such a
game, and so successfully! The determination--the application it
required--and the force of character!

But the gall of it when she should be his wife! He saw pictures of
himself trembling with apprehension at some important function in case
mistakes should occur. He would have to play the part of Arabella, and
write out the notes for the subjects to be "talked of at dinner!"

He lay there, and groaned with rage and disgust.

He could not--he would not go through with it!

But next day the irony of fate fell upon him with heavy hand. He
received the news that Joseph Scroope, his maternal uncle, was dead, not
having produced an heir, so he knew that he would inherit a comfortable
fortune from him.

The noose had, indeed, tightened round his neck,--he could not now
release himself from his engagement to Cecilia Cricklander. Some
instincts of a gentleman still remained with him in full measure. The
hideous, hideous mockery of it all. If he had waited, he would now have
been free to seek his darling, his pure star, Halcyone, in all honor. He
could have taken her dear, tender hand, and led her proudly to the seat
by his side--and crowned her with whatever laurels her sweet spirit
would have inspired him to gain. And it was all too late! too late!

He reviewed the whole chain of events, and perceived how it had been his
own doing--what had happened in each step--and this knowledge added to
the bitterness of his pain. It was from now onward that his nights were
often agony. Every movement, every word of Halcyone ca