whom much was to be expected, both socially and
politically. What must become of that opinion now, Arthur's words too
plainly foreshadowed.

He moved forward into the centre of the room, and faced his brother.
There was only a small table between them.

"I do not know who sent you here, Arthur," he said, "or what reports
you have heard, but it seems to me, that any explanation you may wish
had better be deferred until our return home."

Arthur struck the table violently with his riding-whip, "I will not
wait!" he cried. "Here is the proper place! I have been deceived and
cajoled by--by--you, Adrea, and by my own brother! It is shameful! You
hypocrite, Paul! You, to come up to London, and solemnly lecture me
about a dancing girl. You d----d hypocrite!"

Before his passion, Paul's grave and steadfast silence gained an added
dignity. Adrea, with a red spot burning on her cheeks, sailed between
the two.

"Arthur, you are mad," she said, turning suddenly upon him, with her
eyes afire. "Have I ever deceived you? Have I ever pretended to care
for you? Bah, no! You are only an unformed, hysterical boy. Before,
you were indifferent to me. Now, I am very quickly growing to hate
you! Begone! Leave this house!"

He stood quite still, white and trembling. The scorn of her words had
fallen like ice upon his heart. Then he turned, and groped for the
door, as though there were a mist before his eyes.

"I suppose you are quite right," he faltered out. "I didn't see it
quite the same way, that's all. I understand now."

The door opened and shut. In a moment or two the sound of his horse's
hoofs were heard in the avenue, growing rapidly less distinct as he
galloped away into the darkness. To Paul it sounded like the knell of
his self-respect, but Adrea felt only the relief. Her eyes, full of
soft invitation, sought his; but he did not move. He stood there,
silent and motionless, with his face turned towards the window. Those
dying sounds meant so much to him,--so much that she could never
understand.

The consciousness of her near presence suddenly disturbed him. He
turned round. Her warm breath was upon his cheek, and her white arms
were twined about his neck.

"Paul," she whispered, "do not look so miserable, please! Come and
talk to me."

Her arms tightened around him. He looked down at her with a peculiar
helplessness. Their light weight seemed to him like a chain of iron
weighing him down! down! down!

He had told hi