in the hall, and Mary, flushed and
anxious, appeared at my side.

"What is it?" she inquired. "What has Eleanore been saying?"

"Alas!" I answered, "she has not said anything. That is the trouble,
Miss Leavenworth. Your cousin preserves a reticence upon certain points
very painful to witness. She ought to understand that if she persists in
doing this, that----"

"That what?" There was no mistaking the deep anxiety prompting this
question.

"That she cannot avoid the trouble that will ensue."

For a moment she stood gazing at me, with great horror-stricken,
incredulous eyes; then sinking back into a chair, flung her hands over
her face with the cry:

"Oh, why were we ever born! Why were we allowed to live! Why did we not
perish with those who gave us birth!"

In the face of anguish like this, I could not keep still.

"Dear Miss Leavenworth," I essayed, "there is no cause for such despair
as this. The future looks dark, but not impenetrable. Your cousin will
listen to reason, and in explaining----"

But she, deaf to my words, had again risen to her feet, and stood before
me in an attitude almost appalling.

"Some women in my position would go mad! mad! mad!"

I surveyed her with growing wonder. I thought I knew what she meant. She
was conscious of having given the cue which had led to this suspicion of
her cousin, and that in this way the trouble which hung over their heads
was of her own making. I endeavored to soothe her, but my efforts
were all unavailing. Absorbed in her own anguish, she paid but little
attention to me. Satisfied at last that I could do nothing more for her,
I turned to go. The movement seemed to arouse her.

"I am sorry to leave," said I, "without having afforded you any comfort.
Believe me; I am very anxious to assist you. Is there no one I can send
to your side; no woman friend or relative? It is sad to leave you alone
in this house at such a time."

"And do you expect me to remain here? Why, I should die! Here to-night?"
and the long shudders shook her very frame.

"It is not at all necessary for you to do so, Miss Leavenworth," broke
in a bland voice over our shoulders.

I turned with a start. Mr. Gryce was not only at our back, but had
evidently been there for some moments. Seated near the door, one hand
in his pocket, the other caressing the arm of his chair, he met our
gaze with a sidelong smile that seemed at once to beg pardon for
the intrusion, and to assure us it was mad