t the arrangement will be a very fair one."

"Consents?" echoed Gaston, lashed into fury. "Do you know of whom you
are speaking? This Mademoiselle Melanie is one of the noblest,--that is
to say, one of the most noble-minded, and one of the most chaste of
women."

"You have heard of her then? Perhaps seen her?" inquired Lord Linden,
eagerly. "As for her vaunted chastity, that is neither here nor
there,--that _may_ or _may not_ be fictitious. I have heard from the
best authority that she receives the private visits of titled admirers,
whose attentions can hardly be of a nature very different from mine. You
see, it is fair game, and if I succeed"--

"For Heaven's sake stop!" said Gaston, losing all control of his temper.
Then reflecting that this very energy in defending her might compromise
Madeleine, he said, more calmly, "I beg your lordship to pause before
you insult Mademoiselle Melanie. I know something of her history. She
bears an unblemished name; she has a highly sensitive, a most delicate
and refined nature. Could she deem it possible that any man entertained
toward her such sentiments as those to which you have just given
utterance, it would almost kill her."

Lord Linden's lips curled sarcastically, but he did not feel disposed to
communicate how completely Mademoiselle Melanie was already aware of
those sentiments. He now essayed to put an end to the conversation by
saying,--

"I shall bear your remarks in mind; though the accounts we have heard of
the fair mantua-maker differ materially."

"Who has dared to slander her?" demanded Gaston, with an air which
seemed to assert his right to ask the question.

"I have not said that she has been slandered. I see we are not likely to
understand each other; let us join the ladies."

As he spoke, he walked toward Lady Augusta and Bertha. His sister rose
and made her adieu.

When Lord Linden and Lady Augusta had passed on, Gaston was surprised to
see that Bertha did not appear desirous of returning to the hotel. She
sat still, and, when he approached her, drew her dress slightly aside,
as though to make room for him to resume his seat. Could he do otherwise
than comply? She sat with her head bent down. The shining ringlets
falling in rich, golden showers, partly concealed her face. She was
tracing letters upon the gravel-walk with her parasol. Gaston was too
much moved by his painful conversation with Lord Linden to start any
indifferent topic; and Bertha's ma