ther I interrupted her, "are
you in the secret of this Society?"

"I? Not at present. I shall be later on."

I stopped and faced her with so serious an expression that she listened
to me attentively.

"If you will take my earnest advice--and I beg you not to neglect
it--you will have nothing to do with it or any one belonging to it."

"Not even Brande--I mean Natalie? Is she dangerous?"

I disregarded her mischief and continued: "If you can get Miss Brande
away from her brother and his acquaintances," (I had nearly said
accomplices,) "and keep her away, you would be doing the best and
kindest thing you ever did in your life."

Miss Metford was evidently impressed by my seriousness, but, as she
herself said very truly, it was unlikely that she would be able to
interfere in the way I suggested. Besides, my mysterious warning was
altogether too vague to be of any use as a guide for her own action,
much less that of her friend. I dared not speak plainer. I could only
repeat, in the most emphatic words, my anxiety that she would think
carefully over what I had said. I then pretended to recollect an
engagement with Brande, for I was in such low spirits I had really
little taste for any company.

She was disappointed, and said so in her usual straightforward way. It
was not in the power of any gloomy prophecy to oppress her long. The
serious look which my words had brought on her face passed quickly, and
it was in her natural manner that she bade me good-morning, saying:

"It is rather a bore, for I looked forward to a pleasant hour or two
taking you about."

I postponed my breakfast for want of appetite, and, as Brande's house
was the best example of Liberty Hall I had ever met with, I offered no
apology for my absence during the entire day when I rejoined my host and
hostess in the evening. The interval I spent in the woods, thinking
much and deciding nothing.

After dinner, Brande introduced me to a man whom he called Edward Grey.
Natalie conducted me to the room in which they were engaged. From the
mass of correspondence in which this man Grey was absorbed, and the
litter of papers about him, it was evident that he must have been in the
house long before I made his acquaintance.

Grey handed me a book, which I found to be a register of the names of
the members of Brande's Society, and pointed out the place for my
signature.

When I had written my name on the list I said to Brande: "Now that I
have nominated