risk dangers too to be watched over by two such women."

CHAPTER XXII.

THE WATCH DOG DISCHARGED.

The three days that followed were days of unrest to Constance Wardour.
The intangible, yet distinctly realized trouble, and fear, and dread,
were new experiences in her bright life.

The mystery round about her, her inability to cope with the unknown, the
inaction, the waiting, was almost more than she could calmly endure; and
all this distress of mind and unrest of body was for others. Personally,
she had nothing to fear, nothing to annoy her; but the warm-hearted
heiress made a friend's cause her own. From the first she had grieved
over the sad fate of Sybil Lamotte; not lightly, not as society sorrows
over the fall of its some _proteges_; but deeply, from her heart of
hearts. And now there was added to this, her concern for Clifford Heath,
and the danger that menaced him tormented her.

If her own honor were threatened she could not have been more troubled
and full of fear; for in rebellion, in self-contempt, in a fierce burst
of rage against the heart she could not control, Constance Wardour,
heiress and queen absolute, was forced to confess to that heart that
Clifford Heath's happiness was her happiness too.

Having been forced to recognize this fact, against her wish and will,
Constance came to a better understanding with herself, and she confessed
to herself, with cheeks aflame at the recollection, that her petulant
outbreak, and shameful accusation against Doctor Heath, was but the
mutinous struggle of the head against the heart's acknowledged master.
Too late came this self confession. Sybil Lamotte's letter had never
been found; the mystery surrounding its disappearance, remained a
mystery; and, how could she recall her accusation, while the
circumstances under which it was made remained unchanged? Realizing that
she owed him reparation, she was yet powerless to make it.

"It would be equivalent to a confession, that I could not be happy
without his friendship," she said, hotly. "And he would not accept an
apology while his innocence remained unproven. Let me suffer the
consequences of my own folly; I deserve it; but," setting her white
teeth resolutely, "no harm shall come to him that I can avert; and, I am
not the weakest of women."

Oh, the perversity of women. Who can comprehend it? Who analyze the
mysterious creatures?

When there was against Clifford Heath only a breath of suspicion, a few