that this was
the news which Anne had seen.

Sir Patrick gave him a warning look, and picked up the newspaper from
the floor.

"I may as well run through it, Blanche, and make quite sure that you
have missed nothing," he said.

The report to which Blanche had referred was among the paragraphs
arranged under the heading of "Fashionable News." "A matrimonial
alliance" (the Glasgow journal announced) "was in prospect between the
Honorable Geoffrey Delamayn and the lovely and accomplished relict of
the late Mathew Glenarm, Esq., formerly Miss Newenden." The marriage
would, in all probability, "be solemnized in Scotland, before the end of
the present autumn;" and the wedding breakfast, it was whispered, "would
collect a large and fashionable party at Swanhaven Lodge."

Sir Patrick handed the newspaper silently to Arnold. It was plain to any
one who knew Anne Silvester's story that those were the words which had
found their fatal way to her in her place of rest. The inference that
followed seemed to be hardly less clear. But one intelligible object,
in the opinion of Sir Patrick, could be at the end of her journey to
the north. The deserted woman had rallied the last relics of her old
energy--and had devoted herself to the desperate purpose of stopping the
marriage of Mrs. Glenarm.

Blanche was the first to break the silence.

"It seems like a fatality," she said. "Perpetual failure! Perpetual
disappointment! Are Anne and I doomed never to meet again?"

She looked at her uncle. Sir Patrick showed none of his customary
cheerfulness in the face of disaster.

"She has promised to write to Mr. Crum," he said. "And Mr. Crum has
promised to let us know when he hears from her. That is the only
prospect before us. We must accept it as resignedly as we can."

Blanche wandered out listlessly among the flowers in the conservatory.
Sir Patrick made no secret of the impression produced upon him by Mr.
Crum's letter, when he and Arnold were left alone.

"There is no denying," he said, "that matters have taken a very serious
turn. My plans and calculations are all thrown out. It is impossible to
foresee what new mischief may not come of it, if those two women meet;
or what desperate act Delamayn may not commit, if he finds himself
driven to the wall. As things are, I own frankly I don't know what to
do next. A great light of the Presbyterian Church," he added, with
a momentary outbreak of his whimsical humor, "once declared, in