is before me as I write, and thus open her eyes to the
fact that she is but the dupe of a man devoid of honour.
Shall I do so? No. Rest assured that I shall not. If my
sister is happy, let her remain so. My vendetta lies not in
that direction. The fire of hatred may be stifled, but it
can never be quenched. We shall be quits some day, and you
will regret bitterly that you have broken your word so
lightly. My revenge--the vengeance of a jealous woman--will
fall upon you at a moment and in a manner you will little
dream of. I return you your letters, as you may not care for
them to fall into other hands, and from to-day I shall never
again refer to what has passed. I am young, and may still
obtain an upright and honourable man as husband. You are
old, and are tottering slowly to your doom. Farewell._

"ETHELWYNN MIVART."

The letter fully explained a circumstance of which I had been entirely
ignorant, namely, that the woman I had loved had actually been
engaged to old Mr. Courtenay before her sister had married him. Its
tenor showed how intensely antagonistic she was towards the man who
had fooled her, and in the concluding sentence there was a distinct if
covert threat--a threat of bitter revenge.

She had returned the old man's letters apparently in order to show
that in her hand she held a further and more powerful weapon; she had
not sought to break off his marriage with Mary, but had rather stood
by, swallowed her anger, and calmly calculated upon a fierce vendetta
at a moment when he would least expect it.

Truly those startling words spoken by Sir Bernard had been full of
truth. I remembered them now, and discerned his meaning. He was at
least an honest upright man who, although sometimes a trifle
eccentric, had my interests deeply at heart. In the progress I had
made in my profession I owed much to him, and even in my private
affairs he had sought to guide me, although I had, alas! disregarded
his repeated warnings.

I took up one after another of the letters my friend had examined, and
found them to be the correspondence of a woman who was either angling
after a wealthy husband, or who loved him with all the strength of her
affection. Some of the communications were full of passion, and
betrayed that poetry of soul that was innate in her. The letters were
dated from Neneford, from Oban, and from various Mediterranean ports