of you!"

Greenleaf at the same time bounded to the door, and, seizing her hand,
drew her, bewildered, faint, and fluttering, back into the room.

He turned almost fiercely to his companion:--

"This is your policy, is it, to send her off?--or, more probably, to
amuse me and not send for her at all?"

"Ask the lady,--ask Mrs. Sandford," replied Easelmann. "I have not sent
her off; and you ought to know by this time that I am incapable of
playing false to any man."

Alice, erect, but very pale, maintained her composure as well as she
could, though the timid lips trembled a little, and blinding clouds rose
before her eyes. She withdrew her hand from Greenleaf's grasp, and asked
the meaning of this unusual conduct. Greenleaf's good sense came to the
rescue seasonably.

"Alice,--Miss Lee,--allow me to introduce my friend Mr. Easelmann. We
came here to see you, and were waiting for that purpose; but it seems
you were not told of it."

Easelmann bowed, saying, "No, Miss Lee; I saw Mrs. Sandford, who thought
it best to speak to you first herself."

"I am happy to meet you, Mr. Easelmann," said Alice. "I was just going
out, however, as you see, and I must ask you to excuse me this morning."

Greenleaf saw with a pang how silently, but effectually, he was disposed
of; a downright rebuff would not have been so humiliating. But he was
not to be deterred from his purpose, and he went on:

"Pardon me, if I seem to overstep the bounds of courtesy; but I cannot
let you go in this way, Alice,--for so I must call you. Stay and hear
me. Now that I see you, I must speak. God only knows with what anxiety I
have sought you for the last month."

She tried to answer, but could not command her speech. Seeing her
increasing agitation, Easelmann led her to a seat, and then, in a
gentler tone than he often used, said,--

"I will leave the room, if you please, Miss Lee; this is an interview I
did not desire to witness."

"No," she exclaimed, "do not go. I have nothing to say that you should
not hear; and I hope Mr. Greenleaf will spare me the pain of going over
a history which is better forgotten."

"It can never be forgotten," interposed Greenleaf; "and, in spite of
your protest, I must say what I can--and that is little enough--to
exculpate myself, and then throw myself upon your charity for
forgiveness."

Alice remained silent; but it was a silence that gave no encouragement
to Greenleaf. He advanced still nearer, looking at