istinct between Lesley's tender brows.

Kingston had been looking ill and uneasy for some days past, and one
afternoon she begged leave to go out for an hour or two to see a friend.
Miss Brooke let her go, and went out to a meeting with a perfectly
contented mind. Even if Oliver Trent came to the house that afternoon it
would not matter: it would be only "once in a way." And Lesley secretly
hoped that he would not come.

But he came. A little later than usual--about four o'clock in the
afternoon, when there was no light in the drawing-room but that of the
ruddy blaze, and the tea-tray had not yet been brought up. When Lesley
saw him she wished that she had sent down word that she was engaged,
that she had a headache, or even that she was--conventionally--not at
home. Anything rather than a tete-a-tete with Oliver Trent! And yet she
would have been puzzled to say why.

His quick eye told him almost at once that she was alone. It told him
also that she was decidedly nervous and ill-at-ease.

"We must have lights," she said. "Then you can see my new song. I had a
fresh one this morning."

"Never mind the lights: never mind your song," he said, his voice
vibrating strangely. "If you are like me, you love this delightful
twilight."

"I don't like it," said Lesley, with decision. "I will ring for the
lamps, please."

She moved a step, but by a dexterous movement he interposed himself
between her and the mantelpiece, beside which hung the bell-handle.

"Shall I ring?" he asked, coolly. It seemed to him that he wanted to
gain time. And yet--time for what? He had nothing to get by gaining
time.

"Yes, if you please," Lesley said. She could not get past him without
seeming rude. A slight tremor shook her frame; she shrank away from him,
towards the open piano and leaned against it as if for support. The
flickering firelight showed her that his face was very pale, the lips
were tightly closed, the brows knitted above his fiercely flaming eye.
He did not look like himself.

"Lesley," he said, hoarsely, and stretching forward, he put one hand
upon her arm. But the touch gave the girl strength. She drew her arm
away, as sharply as if a noxious animal had touched her.

"Mr. Trent, you forget yourself."

"Rather say that I remember myself--that I found myself when I found
you! Lesley, I love you!"

"This is shameful--intolerable! You are pledged to my friend--you have
said all this to her before," cried Lesley, in bitt