sister
in the mood we have described.

Lady Gertrude listened with earnest attention. The tale startled her,
but she disliked the very sight of Lord Alphingham; she believed him to
be a bad, designing man. She felt convinced Caroline did love her
brother, much as appearances were against her; and both these feelings
urged her to sift the whole matter carefully, and not permit the
happiness of two individuals to be sacrificed to what might be but the
idle invention or exaggerations of a bad man. Her ready mind instantly
formed its plan, which calmly but earnestly she imparted to her brother,
and implored his consent to act upon it. Startled and disturbed, St.
Eval at first peremptorily refused; but his sisters's eloquence at
length succeeded.

Early in the morning of the succeeding day Caroline Hamilton received
the following brief note:

"Will you, my dear Caroline, receive me half an hour this afternoon? I
have something important to say; I have vanity enough to believe as it
concerns me it will interest you. We shall be more alone at your house
than mine, or I might ask you to come to me.

"Yours affectionately,

"GERTRUDE LYLE."

Completely at a loss to understand the meaning of this little note,
Caroline merely wrote a line to say she should be quite at Lady
Gertrude's service at the appointed time; and so deeply was she
engrossed in the sad tenour of her own thoughts, that all curiosity as
to this important communication was dismissed.

Three o'clock came and so did Lady Gertrude, whose first exclamation was
to notice Caroline's unusual paleness.

"Do not heed my looks, dear Gertrude, I am perfectly well; and now that
you are before me, overwhelmed with curiosity as to your intelligence,"
said Caroline, whose heavy eyes belied her assurance that she was quite
well.

"Dearest Caroline," said Lady Gertrude, in a tone of feeling, "I am so
interested in your welfare, that I cannot bear to see the change so
evident in you; something has disturbed you. Show me you consider me
your friend, and tell me what it is."

"Not to you, oh, not to you; I cannot, I dare not!" burst involuntarily
from the lips of the poor girl, in a tone of such deep distress, that
Lady Gertrude felt pained. "Gertrude, do not ask me; I own I am unhappy,
very, very unhappy, but I deserve to be so. Oh, I would give worlds that
I might speak it, and to you; but I cannot--will not! But do not refuse
me the confidence you offered," she add