d with any thing that you
know about Miss Silvester?"

If Arnold had felt himself at liberty to answer that question, Sir
Patrick's suspicions would have been aroused, and Sir Patrick's
resolution would have forced a full disclosure from him before he left
the house.

It was getting on to midnight. The first hour of the wedding-day was
at hand, as the Truth made its final effort to struggle into light. The
dark Phantoms of Trouble and Terror to come were waiting near them both
at that moment. Arnold hesitated again--hesitated painfully. Sir Patrick
paused for his answer. The clock in the hall struck the quarter to
twelve.

"I can't tell you!" said Arnold.

"Is it a secret?"

"Yes."

"Committed to your honor?"

"Doubly committed to my honor."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that Geoffrey and I have quarreled since he took me into his
confidence. I am doubly bound to respect his confidence after that."

"Is the cause of your quarrel a secret also?"

"Yes."

Sir Patrick looked Arnold steadily in the face.

"I have felt an inveterate distrust of Mr. Delamayn from the first,"
he said. "Answer me this. Have you any reason to think--since we first
talked about your friend in the summer-house at Windygates--that my
opinion of him might have been the right one after all?"

"He has bitterly disappointed me," answered Arnold. "I can say no more."

"You have had very little experience of the world," proceeded Sir
Patrick. "And you have just acknowledged that you have had reason to
distrust your experience of your friend. Are you quite sure that you are
acting wisely in keeping his secret from _me?_ Are you quite sure that
you will not repent the course you are taking to-night?" He laid a
marked emphasis on those last words. "Think, Arnold," he added, kindly.
"Think before you answer."

"I feel bound in honor to keep his secret," said Arnold. "No thinking
can alter that."

Sir Patrick rose, and brought the interview to an end.

"There is nothing more to be said." With those words he gave Arnold his
hand, and, pressing it cordially, wished him good-night.

Going out into the hall, Arnold found Blanche alone, looking at the
barometer.

"The glass is at Set Fair, my darling," he whispered. "Good-night for
the last time!"

He took her in his arms, and kissed her. At the moment when he released
her Blanche slipped a little note into his hand.

"Read it," she whispered, "when you are alone at the inn."

So t