f the Dacre family, and as the
secret ally of Mrs. Dallington Vere, he in some manner contrived always
to be at Miss Dacre's side. With the laughing but insidious pretence
that he was now almost too grave and staid a personage for such scenes,
he conversed with few others, and humourously maintaining that his
'dancing days were over,' danced with none but her. Even when her
attention was engaged by a third person, he lingered about, and with
his consummate knowledge of the world, easy wit, and constant resources,
generally succeeded in not only sliding into the conversation, but
engrossing it. Arundel Dacre, too, although that young gentleman had not
departed from his usual coldness in favour of Sir Lucius Grafton, the
Baronet would most provokingly consider as his particular friend; never
seemed to be conscious that his reserved companion was most punctilious
in his address to him; but on the contrary, called him in return
'Dacre,' and sometimes 'Arundel.' In vain young Dacre struggled to
maintain his position. His manner was no match for that of Sir Lucius
Grafton. Annoyed with himself, he felt confused, and often quitted his
cousin that he might be free of his friend. Thus Sir Lucius Grafton
contrived never to permit Miss Dacre to be alone with Arundel, and to
her he was so courteous, so agreeable, and so useful, that his absence
seemed always a blank, or a period in which something ever went wrong.

The triumphant day rolled on, and each moment Sir Lucius felt more
sanguine and more excited. We will not dwell upon the advancing
confidence of his desperate mind. Hope expanded into certainty,
certainty burst into impatience. In a desperate moment he breathed his
passion.

May Dacre was the last girl to feel at a loss in such a situation. No
one would have rung him out of a saloon with an air of more contemptuous
majesty. But the shock, the solitary strangeness of the scene, the
fear, for the first time, that none were near, and perhaps, also, her
exhausted energy, frightened her, and she shrieked. One only had heard
that shriek, yet that one was legion. Sooner might the whole world know
the worst than this person suspect the least. Sir Lucius was left silent
with rage, mad with passion, desperate with hate.

He gasped for breath. Now his brow burnt, now the cold dew ran off his
countenance in streams. He clenched his fist, he stamped with agony, he
found at length his voice, and he blasphemed to the unconscious wood