ich lay
face down among the cushions of a lounge. She had evidently not heard my
entrance, for she did not move; and, struck by her pathetic attitude, I
advanced in a whirl of feeling, which made me forget all
conventionalities, and everything else, in fact, but that I loved her,
and had the utmost confidence in her power to make me happy. Laying my
hand softly on her head, I tenderly whispered:

"Look up, dear. Whatever barrier may have intervened between us has
fallen. Look up and hear how I love you."

She thrilled as a woman only thrills when her secret soul is moved, and,
rising with a certain grand movement, turned her face upon me, glorious
with a feeling that not even the dimness of the room could hide.

Why, then, did my brain whirl and my heart collapse?

It was Gilbertine and not Dorothy who stood before me.

IX

IN THE LITTLE BOUDOIR

Never had a suspicion crossed my mind of any such explanation of our
secret troubles. I had seen as much of one cousin as the other in my
visits to Mrs. Lansing's house, but Gilbertine being from the first day
of our acquaintance engaged to my friend Sinclair, I naturally did not
presume to study her face for any signs of interest in myself, even if
my sudden and uncontrollable passion for Dorothy had left me the heart
to do so. Yet now, in the light of her unmistakable smile, of her
beaming eyes, from which all troublous thoughts seemed to have fled for
ever, a thousand recollections forced themselves upon my attention,
which not only made me bewail my own blindness, but which served to
explain the peculiar attitude always maintained towards me by Dorothy,
and many other things which a moment before had seemed fraught with
impenetrable mystery.

All this in the twinkling of an eye. Meanwhile, misled by my words,
Gilbertine drew back a step, and, with her face still bright with the
radiance I have mentioned, murmured in low, but full-toned accents:

"Not just yet; it is too soon. Let me simply enjoy the fact that I am
free, and that the courage to win my release came from my own suddenly
acquired trust in Mr. Sinclair's goodness. Last night"--and she
shuddered--"I saw only another way--a way the horrors of which I hardly
realised. But God saved me from so dreadful, yea, so unnecessary a
crime, and this morning----"

It was cruel to let her go on--cruel to stand there and allow this
ardent, if mistaken, nature to unfold itself so ingenuously, while I,
with ear hal