aged about the same time, and
my cousin has got your young lady. It is I that am left
out in the cold, and I really do not see that you have any
reason to be angry. I have no wish to force myself upon
you, and if you do not wish to be gracious down at Ascot,
then let there be an end of it.

Yours truly,

FRANCIS GERALDINE.

He arose and went slowly up-stairs to his wife's bedroom. It was just
the time when she would come down to breakfast, and as his hand was
on the lock of the door she opened it to come out. The moment she saw
him she knew that her secret had been divulged. She knew that he knew
it, and yet he had endeavoured to eradicate all show of anger from
his face, as all reality of it from his heart. He was sure,--was
sure,--that the story was an infamous falsehood! His wife, his chosen
one, his Cecilia to have been engaged, a year ago, to such a one as
Sir Francis Geraldine,--to so base, so mean a creature,--and then to
have married him without telling a word of it all! To have kept him
wilfully, carefully, in the dark, with studied premeditation so as to
be sure of effecting her own marriage before he should learn it, and
that too when he had told her everything as to himself! It certainly
could not be, and was not true!

She stood still holding the door open when she saw him there with the
letter in his hand. There was an instant certainty that the blow had
come and must be borne even should it kill her. It was as though she
were already crushed by the weight of it. Her own conduct appeared to
her black with all its enormity. Though there had been so little done
by her which was really amiss, yet she felt that she had been guilty
beyond the reach of pardon. Twelve months since she could have
declared that she knew herself so well as to be sure that she could
never tremble before anyone. But all that was changed with her.
Her very nature was changed. She felt as though she were a guilty,
discovered, and disgraced criminal. She stood perfectly still,
looking him in the face, but without a word.

And he! His perceptions were not quick as hers, and he still was
determined to disbelieve. "Cecilia!" he said, "I have got a letter."
And he passed on into the room. She followed him and stood with her
hand resting on the shoulder of the sofa. "I have got a letter from
Sir Francis Geraldine."

"What does Sir Francis Geraldine say of me?" she replied.

Had he been a man possessed of quick