She had torn off her wet dress, hidden
it, wrapped her dressing-gown round her.
and shaken some of the cold rain from her
hair, when Millie knocked at the door, Hildred
opened it, but turned quickly from her
sister's gaze.

"How pale you are, Hildred!" the girl
exclaimed.

"And cold and tired. I've been at work,
you know. I'm going to bed now. It is late,
isn't it?" Hildred said, hurriedly.

"Not much past nine, and tea is waiting
for you; and, O Hildred! I have so much
to talk to you about," Millie exclaimed.

"Have some mercy, child! I am utterly
weary. Erle Lyneward has been here;
You see, I know already."

"Hildred, how did you learn his name?
I never mentioned it, because—"

"Because it is an enemy's name."

"You are not angry, dear Hildred—"

"No. No. Tell me all to-morrow. Put
out your light. My head is bad, and it
hurts me."

"O, dear Mildred, forgive me! How selfish
I am! You have been tiring yourself
for me. Lie down quickly dear, and I will
bring you up some tea. It will do your head
good," Millie pleaded, tearfully.

"I will lie down (that I might never
wake! was in her heart); but no tea, I
cannot be troubled. Don't think me unkind,
or angry; but you had better let me
sleep alone to-night."

"If you wish it, you shall."

"I do wish it. Good-night. I shall lock
my door, and then throw myself, straight,
upon my bed."

Millie went away, feeling as if she had
acted very selfishly; and as if Hildred were
only too good not to scold her. Hildred did
throw herself upon her bed: but she did not
sleep the night through. How should she?

CHAPTER III.

SOMETHING had come between them both
when they met next morning. Hildred was
calm and kind, but cold, Millie thought.
Indeed, Hildred did not dare to be tender—
she could not afford it: she needed all her
strength only to keep firm, resolute. Her
face looked like sculptured marble in its
fixedness; but her eyes gleamed strangely.
Millie's face changed every moment, as she
told Hildred all that had passed between
herself and Mr. Lyneward the night before.

It still blew and rained.

Did Millie expect Mr. Lyneward that
morning? Hildred asked. When Millie
answered, perhaps he would not come, as the
weather was so bad, Hildred smiled scornfully;
thinking how much better she knew
him and that the wild weather was one sure
inducement to bring him out. She followed
up her question by asking Millie, where he
lived: about what time he generally came,
and whether walking or riding? Then she
took up her station at the window which
overlooked the road, and sat there.

Millie was unhappy; she was sure Hildred
was ill; thought she was angry, or sorry, too.
All sorts of miseries entered into the little
head bent down assiduously over some work.

Hildred (who never shammed except to
gain some great end) made no pretence of
reading, or working, but sat idle; leaning
back in the great chair Millie had made
her take, her cold hands lying listlessly
on her lap, her eyes glittering, and intent in
watching. At last she saw Erle Lyneward
coming: he was a long way off, but she knew
him.

She turned her rigid face round to Millie,
and said:

"Millie, your lover is coming— I want to
speak to him alone. Go into the study for
a little; there is a fire there. You are not
afraid," she added, seeing that Millie lingered,
"not afraid that I shall steal him from
you, are you? "

It did not occur to Millie, to wonder how
it was that Hildred knew him.

"Not afraid of that!" Millie said; and she
came to Hildred's side, knelt beside her
twining her arms round her waist, and
looking up beseechingly into her sister's
dark eyes: but Hildred knew that Mr. Lyneward
was almost at the house-door. She felt
desperate; rose, and half led, half carried
Millie from the room. When she had her
safe in the study, she kissed her—not tenderly,
but fiercely—and went away, leaving
Millie full of tearful wonder.

She got back into the drawing-room before
Mr. Lyneward had entered the house. She
stood awaiting him, her face turned from
the light. She heard him stride across the
hall. He had opened the door—was in the
room; he stood still. His face grew bewildered
and deeply troubled, as he looked
at her. She spoke first. Coldly greeting
him, she pointed to the chair he was to take,
opposite to her. He obeyed her stately
gesture, and she condescended to explain:

"I am Millie's sister, Mr. Lyneward. You
are surprised to see me here?"

"Miss Vynern—Hildred Vynern!" he
said, perplexedly.

"I have cast off that name—my aunt made
me adopt it. I have left her. I am Hildred
Grey. I hear," she went on, steadily, "that
you are my sister's accepted lover. I am
her elder sister and self-constituted guardian."

"Hildred Vynern, Millie's sister?"

"Even so. What do you find so strange in
that?" Hildred asked.

"Much," Mr. Lyneward replied, proudly.
"Is it not very strange that my Millie—
sweet, loving, Millie Grey—should have so
ungentle and haughty a woman for sister?"

"Yes, that is strange," Hildred said,
smiling scornfully: "Yet not stranger than
—but I will not detain you. I merely wished