strange feeling took possession of her to
go out, breathe the air, and wander up
some private way, and look at that house
which held her rival. The suspense was
intolerable. Most probably he was up
there, exchanging some last good-bye.
Bitter, and even despairing, thoughts came
on her, of how short-lived, after all, are
the most intense dramatic feelings : sure
to give way, in a short time, before the
prose workings of life.

CHAPTER XXII. VICTORY AND DEATH.

IT was a quiet evening, very still, and the
sun, setting, was leaving great fiery welts
and streaks across the sky. The videttes and
stragglers of the gaunt firs sprawled their
arms against this brilliant background in a
very animating fashion. The town was
deserted, there being a little fair going on
outside St. Arthur's.

Jessica wandered off nearly a mile away
to the hill-side, across the river, where
lay the castle peeping through the thick
planting, the throne, as it were, upon which
her cruel and victorious enemy sat. All
the country round, the trees, the falling
valleys, and gentle hills, the very spot on
which she stood, was Laura's; even that
noble river, Heaven's free gift to man, she
had tried to grasp that, and it was actually
hers; the fishing, the banks, all that was
worth having; only the bare fiction of a
legal theory gave the public the use of the
water. This thought made her lip curl.
"A poor insignificant child, no soul, no
wit, or intellect, to be thus endowed; and
for a whim, no more, pursue vindictively
one who was her superior in everything!"
It was hard, too, she was thinking as
she sat down on a rustic bench, how these
blows came, as it were, in a series. Who
could help being stunned? Here she was
on the eve of leaving her home, and of
going out on the world, having lost beside
what might have been her life and happiness.
There might have been some interval,
surely, something to break the stroke, but
such is the cruel dispensation of this life.

Afar off she saw the long windows of the
castle all ablaze with soft light, across
which shadows flitted occasionally. It
must have been one of the "state banquets,"
in which Mrs. Silvertop revelled, got up to
celebrate the grand " conquest" of the
daughter of the house, and defeat of the
aspiring parson's daughter. "Yes," she
said, bitterly, " they will have sent round
word to the regular toadies and jackals of
the parish, who will sing in chorus down
the table, ' so suitable, so nice, so
charming.' " It was a bitter cruel defeat and
mortification. But wealth in this world
must always win. If she had been tricky, or
tried finesse, how easily she could have
worsted that poor, contemptible, spoiled
child ! She had been too scrupulous, and
had wrecked her whole life. The other
was to be happy, while she was to be an
outcast. She should be punished — punishment
here would be only justice. And it
was no harm to pray that it may overtake
her for the many wrongs she had done to
her.

She walked straight to the bank and
found all gone, even the stone piers cleared
away, the walks filled up; then turned
away hastily. It seemed the emblem of a
victory, victory after a long and weary
struggle, in which she had carried off so
much of the spoil. The sight filled her
with grief and anger.

Some minutes passed, when, looking
towards the sea, she could make out the
mainsail flashing up the mast, and the
foresail spreading — signs to her that the sailing
was at hand. He was on board, and her heart
sank; with this she felt the dear dream was
to end, the lights to go out, and she to begin
to bear about within her a chilled heart.
She turned her eyes away, almost hoping
that when next she looked it might be
gone. They rested, then, on the castle,
where the other sat in triumph.

She was standing sheltered behind a clump
of trees, and was so absorbed that she did
not hear a light step and rustle. Looking
round, she started at seeing a face
eagerly looking out and watching the yacht,
utterly unconscious that any one was near.
This apparition almost stopped the current
of her blood. Yet surely this was too
hard, too much of a triumph!

Miss Panton was only a few feet away
from her, and never stirred. The excitement,
and her love, made her look almost
beautiful. She was in her dinner dress, a
light opera cloak wrapped about her, with
flowers in her hair. There was something
strange about this apparition among the
trees and real flowers, and any looker-on
might have fancied that now the Bridge of
Sighs was gone, she must have fluttered in
some ghostly way across that river.

The eager face was lit up with joy and
excitement. She seemed to strain
upwards so as to make herself conspicuous to
the craft, now so lazily lifting its wings.
Next she was waving a handkerchief, and