Guthrie, "aud told her that you are Mr.
Forsyth's cousin. Go up to the first landing,
and through the door that faces you as you
ascend the stairs. I will wait here for you."

He wont up, his heart beating painfully against
his side; and then he paused a moment outside
the door.

CHAPTER XCIV. WHAT PITY IS AKIN TO.

HE found himself in a small outer salon opening
through wide folding-doors into a large room
beyond. A dark figure sitting beside an open
window rose slowly at his approach, and a very
low soft voice, in reply to his muttered salutation,
bade him be seated.

"I trust," he said, " that Miss Rivière will
pardon an intrusion which must seem unpardonable
till it is explained."

"You are welcome, sir," she replied. "If
only as Mr. Forsyth's relative . . . ."

She raised her eyes to his face for the first
time, faltered, coloured crimson, and, after a
moment's hesitation, added:

"I think we have met before."

Saxon bowed profoundly.

"I believe," he said, " that I once had the
honour of being useful to you for a few moments."

"You never gave me any opportunity of—of
thanking you, Mr. Trefalden," she said, pressing
her hands tightly together in her extremity of
embarrassment.

"You gave me more thanks at the time,
madam, than were merited by so trifling a
service," replied Saxon; his self-possession all
coming back to him at the sight of her timidity.
"It seems strange that we should next meet in so
very different a place."

"Very strange,"

"But I had so much difficulty to trace you here,
that I began to fear we should not meet at all."

"Do you come from Angoulême?"

"No; I have followed you from England."

"Indeed? I—I thought you had perhaps met
Mr. Forsyth in Angoulême, and . . . ."

"My cousin does not know that I am in
France," replied Saxon, gravely.

"How happy he will be to see you!"

Saxon looked down in silence.

"And—and he will be here in about an hour
and a half," added Miss Rivière, with a glance
at the pendule on the mantelshelf.

"This evening?"

"Yes. He returns to Bordeaux to-day, and
will lodge to-night at the auberge in the village."

As she said this, Miss Rivière, surprised by
the undemonstrative way in which Saxon
received her information, again lifted her eyes.

"I—I hope there is nothing the matter," she
said, anxiously.

Saxon hesitated.

"I cannot say that I am the bearer of good
news," he replied.

"Oh dear, I am so sorry!"

"I am sorry too," said he; " more sorry than
I can tell you."

The compassionate reluctance of his manner
seemed to startle her.

"What do you mean?" she said, with evident
apprehension.

"I mean, that it grieves me to the soul to inflict
the pain which my intelligence must giive you."

"Must give me!" she faltered, looking for an
instant quite white and scared. Then, smiling
sadly, she shook her head, and turned her face
away. " Ah no," she said; " that is all over."

"If I could indeed believe, Miss Rivière, that
you would be indifferent to the tale I have to
tell, my anxiety would be at an end," said Saxon,
eagerly. " Will you forgive me if I ask you a
very strange question?"

"I—I think so."

"Do you love my cousin?"

Miss Riviere turned a shade paler, and said with
some dignity:

"Mr. Forsyth is my best friend in the world—
my only friend—and I honour him as he deserves
to be honoured."

"But if he were not your best friend, Miss
Riviere? If instead of doing you service, he had
done you wrong? If that honour which you pay
to him were utterly unmerited—what then? Nay,
forgive me—I do not wish to alarm you; but I am
here to-day to tell you terrible truths, and I now
only implore you to listen to them patiently."

"I am quite willing to hear what you have to
say, Mr. Trefalden," Miss Riviere replied; " but
my faith in your cousin will not be easily shaken."

"My own faith in him was not easily shaken,"
said Saxon. " Like yourself, I believed him to
be my friend."

"Of what offence do you accuse him?"

"He has robbed me."

"Robbed you?"

"Yes—of two millions of money."

Miss Riviere looked at him with a sort of
incredulous bewilderment.

"Of money?" she faltered. " You say that he
has robbed you of money?"

"I trusted him with two millions, and he has
robbed me of every farthing," replied the young
man, pitilessly direct. "Nor is this all. He
has robbed your cousin, Lord Castletowers, of
twenty-five thousand pounds more."

"Mr. Forsyth does not know Lord
Castletowers."

"Mr. Forsyth may not know Lord Castletowers,
but William Trefalden, the attorney-at-law
—knows him perfectly well."

"William Trefalden—who is he?"

"William Trefalden is Mr. Forsyth—William
Trefalden is my cousin—William Trefalden is the
man to whom Miss Rivière was about to give her
hand to-morrow."

The young girl half rose from her chair, and
Saxon could see that she was trembling from
head to foot.

"I do not believe it!" she exclaimed. " It is
monstrous—incredible!"

"It is true."

"What proof have you?"

"Not much; yet, I think, enough to