is irrevocable, and I still repeat that I am
sorry for this encounter. Lady Gernon seems pale and ill. Good day."

He held out his hand quietly and frankly to the baronet, though he had
forborne to do so to his lady, and there was an air of calm innocence in
his aspect, that should have carried with it conviction; but Sir Murray
never stirred; his hand was still buried in his breast, as, with a
mocking smile, he said:

"Captain Norton, the army was never your vocation, any more than the
losing office of mine-director."

"I do not understand you, Sir Murray," was the calm, sad reply, as for a
moment Norton's eyes met Marion Gernon's imploring glance.

"Indeed," said the baronet, who had not lost the speaking look
interchanged. "I meant that fortune awaited you upon the stage; you
should have been an actor."

The colour seemed to fade from Norton's face at these galling words, and
the great blue scar stood out more prominently than ever; but the next
moment turning his gaze from Sir Murray, he fixed his eyes upon Marion
with a soft, earnest, speaking look, that meant volumes; for, changing
in an instant from a mocking smile to a look of rage and hate, Sir
Murray Gernon drew a pistol from his pocket, and at a couple of paces'
distance presented it full at Norton. His finger was upon the trigger--
the weapon was fully cocked--and even the slightest contraction of the
angry man's muscles would have sent the contents through Philip Norton's
breast. But he did not wince--not a muscle moved; the man who had
before now stood deadly fire, stood firm, till, with an oath, Sir Murray
hurled the pistol into the thicket, and led his wife away.

But before they had gone a dozen yards the smile had come back upon his
lip, and he turned to gaze at Lady Gernon, to see on her countenance the
same old stony, despairing look that had been there on the wedding morn.

Book 1, Chapter XXXIII.

JANE'S SUSPICIONS.

It is quite possible that in his heart of hearts Sir Murray Gernon had
doubts as to who had been the spoiler of his family jewels, but he would
admit nothing to his breast but such thoughts as were disparaging to
Norton.

At the Castle nods and smiles were prevalent, and the servants gossiped
respecting the happy change that had taken place, arguing all sorts of
gaieties once more; for--so they said--the old house had been like a
dungeon lately, and almost unbearable.

But there were doubts still in the minds of both