Clamp was bowed out. He did not clearly understand her quick
and subtle movements, but he felt sure of his game in the end. The
scornful irony that had played about him like electricity he had not
felt.

When he was gone, the woman's worst enemy would have pitied her
distress. She believed more than ever that Clamp had used Lucy to
abstract her papers, and that he now would hold his power over her to
bring about the hated marriage. Her firmness gave way; she sank on the
sofa and wept like a child. Would that she might yet retreat! But no,
the way is closed up behind her. She must go on to her destiny.

CHAPTER XIV.

Mark Davenport was prosperous in all his undertakings. His position in
the school did not give much scope to his ambition, but the salary he
received was ample enough to pay his expenses, while the duties were
not so onerous as to engross all his time. All his leisure was given
to literary pursuits. He had many times thought he would relinquish
the drudgery of teaching, and support himself by his pen; but he
remembered the maxim of Scott,--that literature was a good staff, but
a poor crutch,--and he stuck to his school. As he grew into a
practised writer, he became connected with the staff of a daily
newspaper in the great city, furnishing leading articles when called
upon, and he soon acquired a position of influence among his
associates. He had maintained a correspondence with Mildred, and was
looking forward to the time when he should make a visit to his native
town, hoping then to be so well established in the world that he might
be able to bring her back with him as his bride. Every thought centred
in her. He coveted fame, wealth, position, only for her sake; and
stimulated by this thought, he had made exertions that would have
broken down a man less vigorous and less resolute.

He received a letter from Innisfield one day, after a long
interval,--so long that he had become uneasy, and imagined every kind
of evil as the cause of delay. He broke the seal; it was not from
Mildred, but from his cousin Lizzie. These were the contents:--

"My dear Mark,--I suppose you may have been anxious before this, at
not hearing from us; but the truth is, we have not had anything very
pleasant to write, and so have put off sending to you. Father is by no
means well or strong. The lawsuit, which is now likely to go wrong,
has troubled him very much. He has grown thin, he stoops as he walks
about, and by night