led her to start from him, deprived
her of all power; and a rapid movement on his part alone prevented her
from falling in the deep pool beneath their feet. It was but a moment:
she withdrew herself from his supporting arms, and stood erect before
him, though words she had none.

"Speak to me!" reiterated Arthur, his voice sounding hollow and
changed; "I ask but one word. My very senses seem to play me false,
and mock me with thy outward semblance to one I have so loved. Her
name, too, was Marie; her voice soft and thrilling as thine own:
and yet, yet, I feel that 'tis but semblance--'tis but mockery--the
phantasy of a disordered brain. Speak, in mercy! Say that it is but
semblance--that thou art not the Marie I have so loved."

"It is true--I am that Marie. I have wronged thee most cruelly, most
falsely," she answered, in a tone low and collected indeed, but
expressive of intense suffering. "It is too late now, either to atone
or to explain. Leave me, Senor Stanley: I am another's!"

"Too late to explain? By heaven but thou shalt!" burst fiercely and
wrathfully from Stanley. "Is it not enough, that thou hast changed my
whole nature into gall, made truth itself a lie, purity a meaningless
word, but thou wilt shroud thyself under the specious hood of duty to
another, when, before heaven, thou wast mine alone. Speak!"

"Ay, I will speak--implore thee by the love thou didst once bear me,
Arthur, leave me now! I can hear no more to-night."

"On condition thou wilt see me in private once again. Marie, thou
darest not refuse me this! Thou canst not have so fallen as to give no
reason for this most foul wrong--fancied weak, futile as it may be. We
part now, but we meet again!" And with a strong effort at control he
strode hastily from her.

The moon at that moment breaking from thick clouds, darted her full
light upon the pool, till it shone like an illuminated mirror amidst
the surrounding darkness; and though Arthur had disappeared, its clear
surface distinctly reflected the outline of another closely shrouded
figure. Marie turned in terror, and beheld, gleaming with the triumph
of a fiend, the hated countenance of Don Luis Garcia. One look told
her that he Lad seen all, heard all; but she had no power to speak or
move. Keeping his basilisk gaze fixed on her, he withdrew backwards
into the deep shade till he had entirely disappeared.

Summoning all her energy, Marie fled back towards the house, and at
the moment she