ries to release it.

"What! not even that little favor on the last night?"

Her faithful heart takes his part, in spite of her. Her hand remains in
his, and feels its soft persuasive pressure. She is a lost woman. It is
only a question of time now!

"Clara! do you love me?"

There is a pause. She shrinks from looking at him--she trembles with
strange contradictory sensations of pleasure and pain. His arm steals
round her; he repeats his question in a whisper; his lips almost touch
her little rosy ear as he says it again:

"Do you love me?"

She closes her eyes faintly--she hears nothing but those words--feels
nothing but his arm round her--forgets Mrs. Crayford's warning--forgets
Richard Wardour himself--turns suddenly, with a loving woman's desperate
disregard of everything but her love--nestles her head on his bosom, and
answers him in that way, at last!

He lifts the beautiful drooping head--their lips meet in their first
kiss--they are both in heaven: it is Clara who brings them back to earth
again with a start--it is Clara who says, "Oh! what have I done?"--as
usual, when it is too late.

Frank answers the question.

"You have made me happy, my angel. Now, when I come back, I come back to
make you my wife."

She shudders. She remembers Richard Wardour again at those words.

"Mind!" she says, "nobody is to know we are engaged till I permit you to
mention it. Remember that!"

He promises to remember it. His arm tries to wind round her once
more. No! She is mistress of herself; she can positively dismiss him
now--after she has let him kiss her!

"Go!" she says. "I want to see Mrs. Crayford. Find her! Say I am here,
waiting to speak to her. Go at once, Frank--for my sake!"

There is no alternative but to obey her. His eyes drink a last draught
of her beauty. He hurries away on his errand--the happiest man in the
room. Five minutes since she was only his partner in the dance. He has
spoken--and she has pledged herself to be his partner for life!

Chapter 4.

It was not easy to find Mrs. Crayford in the crowd. Searching here, and
searching there, Frank became conscious of a stranger, who appeared
to be looking for somebody, on his side. He was a dark, heavy-browed,
strongly-built man, dressed in a shabby old naval officer's uniform.
His manner--strikingly resolute and self-contained--was unmistakably
the manner of a gentleman. He wound his way slowly through the crowd;
stopping to look at every