ing my own conclusions from her
answers.

As we passed along those graveled walks it somehow became vividly
impressed upon me that her marriage was being forced upon her by her
parents. Her manner was that of one who was concealing some strange and
terrible secret which she feared might be revealed. There was a distant
look of unutterable terror in those dark eyes as though she existed in
some constant and ever-present dread. Of course she told me nothing of
her own feelings or affections, yet I recognized in both her words and
her bearing a curious apathy--a want of the real enthusiasm of
affection. Woodroffe, much her senior, was her father's friend, and it
therefore seemed to me more than likely that Leithcourt was pressing a
matrimonial alliance upon his daughter for some ulterior motive. In the
mad hurry for place, power, and wealth, men relentlessly sell their
daughters in the matrimonial market, and ambitious mothers scheme and
intrigue for their own aggrandizement at sacrifice of their daughter's
happiness more often than the public ever dream. Tragedy is, alas!
written upon the face of many a bride whose portrait appears in the
fashion-papers and whose toilette is so faithfully chronicled in the
paragraph beneath. Indeed, the girl in Society who is allowed her own
free choice in the matter of a husband is, alas! nowadays the exception,
for parents who want to "get on" up the social scale have found that
pretty daughters are a marketable commodity, and many a man has been
placed "on his legs," both financially and socially, by his son-in-law.
Hence the marriage of convenience is fast becoming common, while in the
same ratio the divorce petitions are unfortunately on the increase.

I read tragedy in the dark luminous eyes of Muriel Leithcourt. I knew
that her young heart was over-burdened by some secret sorrow or guilty
knowledge that she would reveal to me if she dared. Her own words told
me that she was perplexed; that she longed to confide and seek advice
of someone, yet by reason of some hidden and untoward circumstance her
lips were sealed.

I tried to question her further regarding Woodroffe, of what profession
he followed and of his past.

But she evidently suspected me, for I had unfortunately mentioned the
_Lola_.

She wanted to speak to me in confidence, and yet she would reveal to me
nothing--absolutely nothing.

Martin Woodroffe did not rejoin the house-party at Rannoch.

Although I remained