ountenance, whom I saw
when I first entered the room?" Could it be that she was trying
to beguile us from our conjectures, by making light of her former
expressions? Or was it possible she deceived herself so far as to
believe us unimpressed by the weighty accusation overheard by us at a
moment so critical?

But Eleanore Leavenworth, leaning on the arm of the detective,
soon absorbed all my attention. She had regained by this time her
self-possession, also, but not so entirely as her cousin. Her step
faltered as she endeavored to walk, and the hand which rested on his
arm trembled like a leaf. "Would to God I had never entered this house,"
said I to myself. And yet, before the exclamation was half uttered, I
became conscious of a secret rebellion against the thought; an emotion,
shall I say, of thankfulness that it had been myself rather than another
who had been allowed to break in upon their privacy, overhear that
significant remark, and, shall I acknowledge it, follow Mr. Gryce and
the trembling, swaying figure of Eleanore Leavenworth down-stairs. Not
that I felt the least relenting in my soul towards guilt. Crime had
never looked so black; revenge, selfishness, hatred, cupidity, never
seemed more loathsome; and yet--but why enter into the consideration of
my feelings at that time. They cannot be of interest; besides, who can
fathom the depths of his own soul, or untangle for others the secret
cords of revulsion and attraction which are, and ever have been, a
mystery and wonder to himself? Enough that, supporting upon my arm the
half-fainting form of one woman, but with my attention, and interest
devoted to another, I descended the stairs of the Leavenworth mansion,
and re-entered the dreaded presence of those inquisitors of the law who
had been so impatiently awaiting us.

As I once more crossed that threshold, and faced the eager countenances
of those I had left so short a time before, I felt as if ages had
elapsed in the interval; so much can be experienced by the human soul in
the short space of a few over-weighted moments.

VII. MARY LEAVENWORTH

"For this relief much thanks."
Hamlet.

HAVE you ever observed the effect of the sunlight bursting suddenly upon
the earth from behind a mass of heavily surcharged clouds? If so,
you can have some idea of the sensation produced in that room by the
entrance of these two beautiful ladies. Possessed of a loveliness which
would have been conspicuous