of the two women, whose hands were so lovingly locked
together, was almost as striking as the moral contrast of their hearts.
The one, so chastened, sad, and gentle; the other, so capable of pride
and passion; so darkly excitable, and yet so mysteriously beautiful. The
one, like a Niobe seen in the softest moonshine; the other, a Venus,
lighted in the glare of distant conflagration.

"Mademoiselle, dear mademoiselle, I am so much grieved at what I have to
say, that I hardly know how to speak to you," said poor Mrs. Marston,
pressing her hand; "but Mr. Marston has twice desired me to tell you,
what you will hear with far less pain than it costs me to say it."

Mademoiselle de Barras stole another flashing glance at her companion,
but did not speak.

"Mr. Marston still persists, mademoiselle, in desiring that we
shall part."

"Est-il possible?" cried the Frenchwoman, with a genuine start.

"Indeed, mademoiselle, you may well be surprised," said Mrs. Marston,
encountering her full and dilated gaze, which, however, dropped again in
a moment to the ground. "You may, indeed, naturally be surprised and
shocked at this, to me, most severe decision."

"When did he speak last of it?" said she, rapidly.

"But a few moments since," answered Mrs. Marston.

"Ha," said mademoiselle, and remained silent and motionless for more
than a minute.

"Madame," she cried at last, mournfully, "I suppose, then, I must go; but
it tears my heart to leave you and dear Miss Rhoda. I would be very happy
if, before departing, you would permit me, dear madame, once more to
assure Mr. Marston of my innocence, and, in his presence, to call heaven
to witness how unjust are all his suspicions."

"Do so, mademoiselle, and I will add my earnest assurances again; though,
heaven knows," she said, despondingly, "I anticipate little success; but
it is well to leave no chance untried."

Marston was sitting, as we have said, in his library. His agitation had
given place to a listless gloom, and he leaned back in his chair, his
head supported by his hand, and undisturbed, except by the occasional
fall of the embers upon the hearth. There was a knock at the chamber
door. His back was towards it, and, without turning or moving, he called
to the applicant to enter. The door opened--closed again: a light tread
was audible--a tall shadow darkened the wall: Marston looked round, and
Mademoiselle de Barras was standing before him. Without knowing how or
why,