wits' ends. "If what I have
said has pained you, I am sincerely sorry for it; but for Heaven's sake
control yourself, and--and--_do_ go away!"

Then Monsieur D'Arblet stood still and looked at her fixedly and
mournfully; his hands had dropped feebly by his side, there was an air
of profound melancholy in his aspect; he regarded her with a searching
intensity. He was asking himself whether his agitation and his despair
had produced the very slightest effect upon her; and he came to the
conclusion they had not.

"_Peste soit de cette femme!_" he said to himself. "She is the first I
ever came across who refused to believe in vows of eternal love. As a
rule, women never fail to give them credit, if they are spoken often
enough and shouted out loud enough the more one despairs and declares
that one is about to expire, the more the dear creatures are impressed,
and the more firmly they are convinced of the power of their own charms.
But this woman does not believe in me one little bit. Love, despair,
rage--it is all the same to her--I might as well talk to the winds! She
only wants to get rid of me before her friend comes in, and before I
break her accursed china. Ah it is these miserable little pots and jugs
that she is thinking about! Very well, then, it is by them that I will do
what I want. A great genius can bend to small things as well as soar to
large ones--Voyons done, ma belle, which of us will be the victor!"

All this time he was gazing at her fixedly and dejectedly.

"Miss Nevill," he said, gloomily, "I will accept your rejection;
to-morrow I will say good-bye to this country for ever!"

"We are all going away this week," said Vera, cheerfully: "this is the
end of July. You will come back again next year, and enjoy your season as
much as ever."

"Never--never. Lucien D'Arblet will visit this country no more. The words
that I am about to speak to you now--the request that I am about to make
of you are like the words of a dying man; like the parting desire of one
who expires. Mademoiselle, I have a request to make of you."

"I am sure," began Vera, politely, "if there is anything I can do
for you----" She breathed more freely now he talked about going away
and dying; it would be much better that he should so go away, and so
die, than remain interminably on the rampage in Mrs. Hazeldine's
drawing-room. Vera had stood siege for close upon an hour. The moment of
her deliverance was apparently drawing near; in th