every day. She and Constance held dismal
conferences over what was nearest to their
hearts. "If something only would happen;
something one way or the other. Something
must and shall be decided one way or the other.
He shall not be destroyed for her caprice. Let
her marry this man at once, in God's name,
and remove this curse from among us."
One morning, seeing her brother sitting there
pale, hopeless, and rapidly gliding into
illness or perhaps mental alienation, something
like an inspiration seemed to come to her,
and she left the room and went out into the
street.

It was about ten o'clock, and Lucy was
sitting at the window, thinking over a charming
dress which lay on a sofa there, a present for
the coming ball, which some mysterious
enchanter had sent in, saw with wonder the stiff
and sad-coloured figure of Margaret West pass
into Vivian's house. Nor did it pass out again
until nearly an hour had gone by. She could
not but notice the change in Margaret's
appearance, and she actually saw beyond mistake
the look of triumph and defiance that Margaret
cast upwards at her window. The little heart
fluttered. Her breath began to come and go.
"She means me and him some mischief. She
would do anything for her brother. What can
it mean?"

She would not have been more surprised than
was Vivian when the gaunt form of Margaret
was before him. She spoke in her old hard,
stern way:

"This is the last thing you looked for, I
dare say— the last thing I should have thought
of; but it has become a duty for me. I have
come to ask a favour from you."

Vivian, much relieved, answered, with alacrity,
that he should be delighted, and that he was
glad she had come to him.

"Don't think my brother has sent me; he
knows nothing of this. You see the state he
is in-- a sensible, strong-minded man, reduced
to a miserable pitiable condition by the
heartlessness of a thoughtless girl."

"This is the old folly," said Vivian, warmly.
"And I am glad you have mentioned it, that
we may dispose of it at once and for ever.
What is this about heartlessness and cruelty?
Put it at the worst, she was a child fresh from
school; he a man that might be her father;
and even if she did change and was a little
capricious—"

"I am not come to discuss that," she said,
coldly. " That mischief is done-- whoever has
done it. I want to save something out of the
wreck. Tell me this, why do you not end this
miserable suspense which is destroying us all?
How many months has this been going on?
You have won her heart, you will tell me.
If you are such a devoted lover, you would
have been married to her long ago. But I
believe yours is a soldier's, a garrison love, and
it is said in this place you are seeking some
excuse for retreat."

Margaret's eye was resting on him to see the
effect of this speech. He answered her with a
burst:

"As I live, no, no, no! And I will say, also,
that you, Miss West, do not believe in what you
have said. As for the retailed stories of this
place, neither Lucy nor I cares for them."

"Then why these excuses, why this delay,
unless"—and again Margaret's cold eye was
on him—"unless the shadow of some old love
has risen up and come between? Old pledges
are awkward. The gossip of this place
sometimes travels far; and if there was danger of
such an awkward intrusion during the
ceremony—"

He walked about impatiently.

"This is going much too far," he said. "I have
borne your inquisition too long. Politeness to
a lady, and pity for your situation, alone made
me bear so much. I must tell you, I do not
accept the view of what you call your brother's
folly. To me it seems too gentle a name for
a spiteful and sour heart; and if he has sent
you here to pry into my affairs, or to question
me about them—"

"Or," said she, suddenly seizing him by the
wrist, and turning him to the light, " could
it be that you are bound to a wife already? Ah!
your face answers me, and I hold the secret!"

If a gasping voice, a blanched cheek, and
the trembling arm she had clutched were
evidence, then she had his secret. But the
dramatic start of the situation would have scared
many a sober man.

"What terms," she cried, in exultation—
"what terms do you make? Or what terms do
I give you?— for I can dictate. It is the truth,
as I live. You cannot look at me. You are
shaking from head to foot. Ah, this explains
all—delay, indecision, mournful looks. You
cannot speak to me. You cannot falter out
your story."

He did falter out, " This is a wild speech of
yours. Any one can say such a thing. You
are as foolish as your brother."

"Right, right," said she, pacing backward
and forward and speaking to him; " words are
nothing. We must have proof—proof and facts.
They will come—I shall find them. From this
hour I shall watch, hunt, prove; to those who
watch and search, proof comes of itself. Now
I have something to live for. And now I know
there is a good and gracious Being over us all.
It was an inspiration sent from heaven. I leave
you now."

Vivian's manner had of a sudden changed; a
sort of desperation was in his face. He crossed
over between her and the door. " No; not with
this wild story to be sent among the scoundrels
of this place. Take care; I shall not have my
life and happiness destroyed by a slander sent
abroad by a revengeful woman and a rejected
rival."

"Fear nothing," she said. " I can wait till
the proper time. There shall be no stories, but
all facts. I shall watch with delight to see
what you will do. You are in a delicious
dilemma. Dacres will hold you to your pledge,