hat
moment Benson's boat hove in sight, and there sat madam looking fairly
at us. If they had been a moment later, I'm quite sure the old fellow
would have been down upon his knees in the dead leaves."

The slave-woman listened to this flippant speech in cold silence. She
was endowed with a powerful will, matched with pride that was almost
satanic. She saw the malicious pleasure with which Agnes said all this,
and would not gratify it by a single glance. With all her wicked craft,
the young girl was no match for the woman.

"You have acted unwisely," she said with wonderful self-command; "never
trifle with side issues when they can possibly interfere with the main
object. I wished to evade General Harrington's close scrutiny into our
antecedents; to soothe the lion, not goad him. Be careful of this a
second time!"

How calmly she spoke! You would not have believed her the same woman who
had sprung upon the girl so like a tiger only a few moments before. Even
Agnes looked upon her with amazement.

"Woman," she said, "tell me what you are at--trust me, and I will help
you heart and soul."

"What! even to the giving up of this new-born love?"

"Even to that, if I can be convinced of its necessity."

"I will trust you."

"Wholly--entirely?"

"Entirely!"

The girl threw her arms around that singular woman, their lips met, and
the subtle force of one heart kindled and burned in the bosom of the
other.

"Tell me everything, mamma!"

"I will. But first, let us read Mabel Harrington's journal, it will
prepare you for the rest."

They opened the stolen book, and sat down together so close that their
arms were interlaced, and their cheeks touched as they read.

It was a terrible picture, that meagre, dimly-lighted room, the
tree-boughs waving against the window, their leaves vocal with the last
sob of the storm, and those two women with their keen evil faces, their
lips parted with eagerness, and their eyes gleaming darkly, as they
drank up the secrets of poor Mabel Harrington's life.

CHAPTER XVIII.

OLD HEADS AND YOUNG HEARTS.

General Harrington spent the entire day at home. After the rather
uncomfortable breakfast we have already described, he went to his
library, discontented and moody. All day he was disposed to be restless
and dissatisfied with his books, as he had been with the appointments of
his morning meal. Indignant with his whole household, for not being on
the alert to amuse him, he d