help feeling touched by the thought that she had to sever herself from the memories, or at least from the monuments, of that deep disinterested affection. A new life was all before her; for the third time in her short days, she was to begin all over again. The thought made every step she set on the stairs of her present home seem like a farewell. She spoke to no one, but went slowly to the familiar room where she had seen Fielding that morning; where she had spoken with Wilberforce later still. As she reached its threshold she was thinking of this and of other memorable interviews she had had in the same room, with the portrait of Albert Vanthorpe looking on. 'Something strange is always happening to me in this room,' she thought. Soon I shall not see it any more. There are some memories of it that I shall always love.'

6

The dusk was gathering, and the room was dim. The lamps were not yet lighted; she could scarcely discern objects around. As she approached the chimney-piece she could see that the picture of Albert Vanthorpe was in its place. It looked now a mere dark slab against the dusk. Her eyes were attracted

by it and were fixed upon it; there was something ominous and reproachful about its presence, and about the manner in which it had fixed her attention the moment she entered the room.'

'Gabrielle!' The word came in a low, thrilling tone from somewhere between her and the picture. She stood still, but she did not scream. 'Gabrielle !'

And then she saw a figure rise from the ground—it almost seemed as if it might have come out of the ground before her-and she was aware of the presence of Clarkson Fielding.

'Oh, how did you come here?' she asked breathlessly.

'I came to see you; I knew you would return soon. I stole in here like a thief in the night, and lay on the hearth until I heard you come in. I wanted to see you alone, Gabrielle.'

'But if anyone had come in and seen you?' she said, hardly knowing what she was saying, and only feeling sure that her heart was beating loudly.

'I didn't care; I must see you; and I lay on the hearth in token of humiliation; for I must have offended you in some way to-day. There, you are tired,

or I have frightened you. Sit here; no, here, on the sofa, and I will lie at your feet.'

His manner of submissive domination overmastered her. She sat on the sofa as he bade her; and he actually threw himself on the ground at her feet. He took her hand, and she did not resist. There was a moment of silence.

'You have forgiven me?' he said, turning his head round towards her; and you will tell me why you were angry with me to-day, Gabrielle ?'

'Because I humbled myself as no woman ought to do, and you seemed ashamed to meet your brother's eyes. What wrong had I done to your brother? what had I to be ashamed of?'

"Oh, no, not you, but I; at least, I felt so for the moment. Look here, Gabrielle, listen. He told me again and again how fond he was of you; he told me he was going to ask you to marry him. You know how good, and kind, and brotherly-more than brotherly -he has been to me. How could I help feeling afraid to look him in the face, and confess that I had come between him and his hopes? If I had ever known, or ever thought or suspected, or anything-but how could

I suspect? How could I think a woman like you could care about a ne'er-do-well like me? Why, I remember once saying that if you would only have the goodness to trample on me, I should be only too happy. Good heavens! how could I fancy that you would care about me? I should never have believed it, if you had not told me yourself.'

'I don't know why I told you,' Gabrielle said; but I could not help it then, and I felt that it was right at the time. Why should I allow you to go away from England, if-if that was all?'

6

Ay, why indeed, why indeed? dreamed of such a thing, Gabrielle.

But I never

I thought you

would very likely marry my brother; and, much as I love Wilberforce now, I could not stay and see that. Can you wonder if I was afraid to meet him? I have taken you from him; he may even think I was treacherous to him, and deceived him. You can under stand this, Gabrielle, Gabrielle?' He seemed to take a delight in the mere repeating of her name. 'You forgive me, Gabrielle ?'

'Yes,' she said. 'I felt bitter at the moment. I think I was angry with myself more than with you;

but I understand now better, and I know it must be a trying thing to you to have to meet your brother. But you will tell him all the truth, just as it is; and he will believe you. He is so loyal and true himself.' And you do care for me, Gabrielle?' He sank his voice into a wonderful softness of tone. You love me?'

'Oh yes, I said that before. Nothing can change that.' She felt him press her hand to his lips. There was a moment's silence. She was glad that the dusk was deepening, so that even her lover could not see her face.

'Now,' she said, you must go. You must leave me, for this time. We can see each other soon again; very soon. I will write. Is not that the best way? But this is all so strange now, everything in the world seems changed. Yow must give me time to collect my senses. You will go my friend?'

She did not know yet by what name to call him. It was all too new and sudden for her to venture on a tenderer word. But her tremulous voice gave an unspeakable tenderness to the word; and he was satisfied.

"Yes; I will go,' he said. 'I will steal out as I