at this lie was as a
dash of blood on a white wall--an ineffaceable stain.

If there are years that count double, there are moments in which the
hour-glass is transfixed. The entire scene, from Tristrem's entrance to
Weldon's departure, was compassed in less than a minute, yet during that
fragment of time there had been enacted a drama in epitome--a drama
humdrum and ordinary indeed, but in which Tristrem found himself bidding
farewell to one whom he had never known.

He was broken in spirit, overwhelmed by the suddenness of the disaster,
and presently, as though in search of sympathy, he turned to Miss
Raritan. The girl had thrown herself in a chair, and sat, her face
hidden in her hands. As Tristrem approached her she looked up. Her
cheeks were blanched.

"He told me you were at the Wainwaring's," Tristrem began. "I don't
see," he added, after a moment--"I don't understand why he should have
done so. He knew you were here, yet he said----"

"Did you hear what he said to me?"

Tristrem for all response shook his head wonderingly.

The girl's cheeks from white had turned flame.

"He has not been to you the friend you think," she said, and raising her
arm to her face, she made a gesture as though to brush from her some
distasteful thing.

"But what has he done? What did he say?"

"Don't ask me. Don't mention him to me." She buried her face again in
her hands and was silent.

Tristrem turned uneasily and walked into the other room, and then back
again to where she sat; but still she hid her face and was silent. And
Tristrem left her and continued his walk, this time to the dining-room
and then back to the parlor which he had first entered. And after a
while Miss Raritan stood up from her seat and as though impelled by the
nervousness of her companion, she, too, began to pace the rooms, but in
the contrary direction to that which Tristrem had chosen. At last she
stopped, and when Tristrem approached her she beckoned him to her side.

"What did you say to me last night?" she asked.

"What did I say? I said--you asked me--I said it would be difficult."

"Do you think so still?"

"Always."

"Tristrem, I will be your wife."

A Cimmerian led out of darkness into sudden light could not marvel more
at multicolored vistas than did Tristrem, at this promise. Truly they
are most hopeless who have hoped the most. And Tristrem, as he paced the
rooms, had told himself it was done. His hopes had scattered before him