h relieved, but she did not speak at once. Her eyes
wandered away from him, and following her gaze he saw them reach and
rest upon Mr. Thauret. A jealous pang darted through his heart. He was
about to speak when she turned to him and said with suppressed emotion:

"I hope you will not be angry with me, and that you will not think evil
of me. There is something I cannot explain, yet which, if I could, you
would not object to. But until I can tell you about it--I cannot--I
cannot--give you an answer. Would you--would you be willing to wait?"
There was a tone of entreaty in her voice.

"How long?" asked Mr. Randolph, still irritated, and wondering if the
something which she could not tell was in any way connected with Mr.
Thauret.

"Would you mind--if I asked you to wait till--well, say the New Year?"

"That is a long time, but if it is your will, I must."

"Oh, thank you!" That was all she said; but there was a hint of rapture
in her speech, there were tears in her eyes, and for one brief ecstatic
moment he thought that there was love in her heart, and that that love
was for him. With an impulse that he could not control, and which she
did not check, he drew her to him, and softly touched her lips with his
own. He felt satisfied, though she left him immediately and went at once
to Mr. Thauret, who greeted her with evident warmth. There is something,
magnetism if you please, but a something that binds two true lovers'
hearts so that an impulse in the one excites an answering sensation in
the other. The oddest fact in this connection is, that though one may
fancy himself deeply in love, he is not, till he has received one of
these instantaneous messages which Cupid ticks over Love's telegraph.
After that he is enslaved. His better judgment is gone. He will argue in
the lonely hours of the night that he has made a mistake, that the woman
is not destined to make him happy, that she has this, that, or the other
fault, but it counts for nothing, save that he suffers. That one stab
has slain his manhood, and he cannot control his actions. As soon as he
meets the woman again, act as she may, his love is aflame once more. She
may ill-treat him, she may ignore him, it matters not; she attracts him.

Thus it was with poor Mr. Randolph. Throughout the many weeks that
followed he suffered much. He called his love all the unpleasant things
that jealousy could suggest. But invariably the recollection of that one
moment, when she ha