hour of deep tribulation, words came and they saved him.

'I have a great deal of business to attend to to-morrow. I am--that is
to say, my solicitor is, raising for me a large sum of money at four per
cent. On one large mortgage I am paying six per cent., therefore if I
can get the money at four I shall be by some hundreds of pounds a richer
man than I am at present. At the end of the week this matter will be
settled. I will write to you and say when I shall be able to accept your
invitation.'

Mrs. Barton would have preferred to have brought the matter at once to a
conclusion, but in the hesitation that ensued, the Marquis, unable to
withstand the strain set upon his feelings any longer, moved away from
her. And in the next room, to save himself from further persecution, he
engaged at once in conversation with Alice. Ten minutes after he said
good-night. To get out of the light into the dark, to feel the cool wind
upon his cheek, oh! what a relief! 'What could have persuaded that woman
to speak to me as she did? She must be mad.' He walked on as if in a
dream, the guineas she had promised him chinking dubiously through his
brain. Then stopping suddenly, overcome by nerve-excitement, he threw
his arms in the air: his features twitched convulsively. The spasm
passed; and, unconscious of all save the thoughts that held and tore
him--their palpitating prey--he walked onwards. . . . Black ruin on one
side, and oh! what sweet white vision of happiness on the other! Why was
he thus tortured--why was he thus torn on the rack of such a terrible
discussion? He stopped again, and his weak neck swayed plaintively.
Then, in the sullen calm that followed, the thought crossed his mind: If
he only knew. . . . She might refuse him; if so, he did not care what
became of him, and he would accept the other willingly. But would she
refuse him? That he must know at once. If she did refuse, he would, at
all events, escape the black looks of his relations, and in the
cowardice of the thought the weary spirit was healed, assuaged, as tired
limbs might be in a bath of cool, clear water. Why lose a moment? It was
only half-past ten--an 'outside' would take him in less than two minutes
to Fitzwilliam Place. Yes, he would go.

And as the car clattered he feasted on the white thin face and the grey
allurements of her eyes. But if she weren't at home.

He was shown upstairs. Mother and daughter were alone, talking over the
fire in the drawing-