he looked at him fixedly.

"Evan, are you sure this last state of your mind is not worse than the
first?"

He laughed, ironically.

"How hard it is to make you believe that any good exists in me."

"Oh, not that, Evan, but you look so strange; not so wild as before,
but--"

"Just as wicked."

"Well, yes!"

"Well, Con., you can't expect a fellow to feel pious all in an instant;
mine is a pious resolve, and the proper feeling must follow. Isn't that
about how they preach it?"

"That's about how they preach it, sir. Now listen, I don't intend to
stir one step, or allow you to stir, until you have explained some of
your dark sayings; you are going to tell me what this new resolve is."

Evan glanced at her from under his long lashes, and seemed to hesitate.
He knew that Constance, in what he had sometimes termed her "imperative
mood," was a difficult element to contend with. But he was not quite
prepared to divulge just the precise thoughts that were in his mind.

"Con.," he said, slowly, "do you think, if my sister came back very
penitent, or very miserable, that my father would take her home?"

"I don't know, Evan."

"Well, that's another of the things that brought me to you. I was
overwhelmed with misery, and my head was chaos. I was wild to wreak
vengeance upon that man, and filled with dread at the thought that Sybil
might come back and meet with no welcome. I believe she will come. I
know that man would not miss the triumph of bringing her back among us.
Now, Con., my father thinks you infallible, and you can do anything with
Frank. I want you to see them, and make them take Sybil home, when she
comes. Yes, and John Burrill, too, if she _will_ have him."

"Why, Evan!"

"Then," he went on, breathlessly, "the world must have a reason for this
marriage; for, not the greatest fool in W---- will believe that Sybil
freely chose that villain. Do you pave the way for Sybil's return; I
will find a reason for the marriage,--a bone to throw to the dogs. For,
I tell you, Con., the true reason will never be told."

Thinking of Sybil's letter, Constance could but agree with him in this;
and that letter, too, had caused her to think that Sybil had expected,
or hoped, or feared, a return to W----; which, she could only guess.

"You will furnish a reason, Evan? You are mystifying me."

"Never mind that. I, Evan Lamotte, worthless--black sheep--sot; _I_ will
find a reason, I tell you; one that will not be questioned