ible, even to the verge of tragedy.

"That makes my task easier," continued Mr. Ryfe. "He has explained, of
course, the tendency of my instructions, the object of my visit. It
only remains for us to fix time and place."

"He has explained _nothing_," answered the painter. "What is it you
complain of, and of what nature is the dispute between Lord Bearwarden
and my friend?"

Tom assumed an air of extreme candour, and opened his case artfully
enough; but, forgetting that every painter is necessarily a
physiognomist, omitted the precaution of turning his back to the
light.

"You are on intimate terms with Mr. Stanmore, I believe," said he.
"Yet in matters of so delicate a nature men of honour keep their own
counsel very closely. It is possible you may not be aware of much
in his daily life that you would disapprove--much that, under the
circumstances, though I am no rigid moralist, appears inexcusable even
to me."

How white that delicate face turned in the next room! How eagerly
those dark eyes seemed trying to pierce the blank panels of the door!

"I have known Mr. Stanmore several years," answered the painter. "I
have seen him almost every day of late. I can only say you must be
more explicit, Mr. Ryfe. I do not understand you yet."

"Do you mean to tell me you are ignorant of an entanglement, a
_liaison_, a most untoward and unfortunate attachment, existing
between Mr. Stanmore and a lady whose name I fear it will be
impossible to keep out of the discussion?"

A wild misgiving, not altogether painful, shot through the painter
while he thought of Nina; but, watching the speaker's face, as was his
wont, and detecting a disparity of expression between eyes and
mouth, he gathered that the man was trying to deceive him in some
particular--not speaking the whole truth.

Miss Algernon, who could only listen, trembled and turned sick at
heart.

"I think you must be misinformed, Mr. Ryfe," was Simon's reply.

The other smiled, as pitying such ignorance of social gossip and
worldly scandal.

"Misinformed!" he repeated. "A man is not usually misinformed
who trusts his own eyes. A husband cannot be called unreasonably
dissatisfied whose wife tells him distinctly she is going to one
place, and who sees her an hour after in company with the man he
suspects at another. It is no use beating about the bush. You
cannot ignore such outrages as these. I wish to spare everybody's
feelings--yours, mine, even the lady's, and