o strange and terrible,
that I am afraid some great misfortune threatens you, which you fear to
tell me of."

"My looks! Why, curse it, must I give an account of my looks?" replied
Marston, at once disconcerted and wrathful. "Misfortune! What misfortune
can befall us more? No, there is nothing, nothing, I say, but your own
foolish fancy; go to your room--go to sleep--my looks, indeed; pshaw!"

"I came to tell you, dear Richard, that I will do, in all respects, just
as you desire. If you continue to wish it, I will part with poor
mademoiselle; though, indeed, Richard, I shall miss her more than you can
imagine; and all your suspicions have wronged her deeply," said Mrs.
Marston. Her husband darted a sudden flashing glance of suspicious
scrutiny upon her face; but its expression was frank, earnest, noble. He
was disarmed; he hung his head gloomily upon his breast, and was silent
for a time. She came nearer, and laid her hand upon his arm. He looked
darkly into her upturned eyes, and a feeling which had not touched his
heart for many a day--an emotion of pity, transient, indeed, but vivid,
revisited him. He took her hand in his, and said, in gentler terms than
she had heard him use for a long time--

"No, indeed, Gertrude, you have deceived yourself; no misfortune has
happened, and if I am gloomy, the source of all my troubles is within.
Leave me, Gertrude, for the present. As to the other matter, the
departure of Mademoiselle de Barras, we can talk of that tomorrow--now I
cannot; so let us part. Go to your room; good night."

She was withdrawing, and he added, in a subdued tone--"Gertrude, I am
very glad you came--very glad. Pray for me tonight."

He had followed her a few steps toward the door, and now stopped short,
turned about, and walked dejectedly back again--

"I am right glad she came," he muttered, as soon as he was once more
alone. "Wynston is provoking and fiery, too. Were I, in my present mood,
to seek a tete-a-tete with him, who knows what might come of it? Blood;
my own heart whispers--blood! I'll not trust myself."

He strode to the study door, locked it, and taking out the key, shut it
in the drawer of one of the cabinets.

"Now it will need more than accident or impulse to lead me to him. I
cannot go, at least, without reflection, without premeditation. Avaunt,
fiend. I have baffled you."

He stood in the center of the room, cowering and scowling as he said
this, and looked round with a glance h