Brudenell Hall!"

"Nora, hear me: this is near the first of July; in six months, that is
before the first of January, whether I live or die, as my wife or as my
widow, you shall rule at Brudenell Hall!"

Nora smiled, a strange, sad smile.

"Listen, dearest," he continued; "my mother leaves Brudenell in
December. She thinks the two young ladies, my sisters, should have more
society; so she has purchased a fine house in a fashionable quarter of
Washington City. The workmen are now busy decorating and furnishing it.
She takes possession of it early in December. Then, my Nora, when my
mother and sisters are clear of Brudenell Hall, and settled in their
town-house, I will bring you home and write and announce our marriage.
Thus there can be no noise. People cannot quarrel very long or fiercely
through the post. And finally time and reflection will reconcile my
mother to the inevitable, and we shall be all once more united and
happy."

"Herman dear," said Nora softly, "indeed my heart is toward your mother;
I could love and revere and serve her as dutifully as if I were her
daughter, if she would only deign to let me. And, at any rate, whether
she will or not, I cannot help loving and honoring her, because she is
your mother and loves you. And, oh, Herman, if she could look into my
heart and see how truly I love you, her son, how gladly I would suffer
to make you happy, and how willing I should be to live in utter poverty
and obscurity, if it would be for your good, I do think she would love
me a little for your sake!"

"Heaven grant it, my darling!"

"But be sure of this, dear Herman. No matter how she may think it good
to treat me, I can never be angry with her. I must always love her and
seek her favor, for she is your mother."

CHAPTER VI.

A SECRET REVEALED.

Full soon upon that dream of sin
An awful light came bursting in;
The shrine was cold at which she knelt;
The idol of that shrine was gone;
An humbled thing of shame and guilt;
Outcast and spurned and lone,
Wrapt in the shadows of that crime,
With withered heart and burning brain,
And tears that fell like fiery rain,
She passed a fearful time.

--_Whittier_.

Thus in pleasant wandering through the wood and sweet repose beneath the
trees the happy lovers passed the blooming months of summer and the
glowing months of autumn.

But when the seasons changed again, and with the last days of November
came the bleak n