ed before the ghastly terrors of imagined loneliness. An
evil voice that had whispered perhaps in the ear of more than one of the
"bitter, bad Tresilyans," seemed to murmur, "You, too, can die:" but
Cecil was not yet so lost as to listen to the suggestion of the subtle
fiend. She wasted no regrets on the past, and the wreck of all its
brilliant promises: she was resolute to meet the perils of the future;
nevertheless, her heart was heavy with apprehension. Remember the answer
that the stout Catholic made to Des Adrets, when the savage baron
taunted him with cowardice for shrinking twice from the death-leap on
the tower, "_Je vous le donne, en dix_." So it is not in
womanhood--however ruined in principle or reckless of the consequences,
to venture deliberately, without a shudder, on the fatal plunge from
which no fair fame has ever risen unshattered again. Even prejudices may
not be torn up by the roots without stirring the earth around them.

She might have sat musing thus for about an hour; so deep in thought
that she never heard the _portiere_ slowly drawn aside that divided the
room from an ante-chamber. The Tresilyan had her emotions under
tolerable control, and at least was not given to screaming; but she
could hardly repress the startled cry that sprang to her lips when she
raised her eyes.

The reproachful spectre that had haunted her for years--till very
lately, when a stronger influence chased it away--assumed substance of
form and feature, as the dark doorway framed the haggard, pain-stricken
face of Mark Waring.

CHAPTER XX.

It is not very easy to confront, with decorous composure, the sudden
apparition of the person on earth that one would have least liked to
see. All things considered Cecil carried it off creditably, and greeted
her unexpected visitor with sufficient cordiality. Mark took her offered
hand gravely, without eagerness, not holding it an instant longer than
was necessary. Then he spoke--

"They told me I should find you alone. I was so anxious to do so as soon
as possible, that I ventured to break in upon you even at this
unseasonable hour. You will guess that I had powerful reasons."

The Tresilyan threw back her haughty head, as a war-horse might do at
the first blast of the trumpet: she scented battle in the wind.

"Will you be good enough to explain yourself?" she said, as she took her
own seat again, and motioned him into another; "I am sure you would not
trifle with me, o