gry--I will
not stab Laurence Thorndyke through the innocent girl who loves him. I
have fallen very low, but not quite low enough for that. Let her marry
him--I shall not lift a finger--speak a word to prevent it. She at least
has never wronged me."

"No, she has never wronged you, but do you think you can do her a
greater wrong than by letting her become the wife of a heartless
scoundrel and libertine? I thought better of you, Miss Bourdon. Laurence
Thorndyke is to escape, then, after all?"

Her eyes flashed--literally flashed in the firelight.

"No! So surely as we both live he shall not escape. But not in that way
shall he be punished."

"Then, how----"

"Not to-night, Mr. Liston; some other time we will talk of this. When
did you say the--the wedding was to take place?"

"The first week of December. They will spend the winter South. She is a
Southerner by birth, although at present residing with her guardian, Mr.
Darcy, in New York. I am to understand, then, you will not prevent this
marriage?"

"I will not prevent it. I have had my fool's paradise--so no doubt had
Lucy West, why should not Helen Holmes?"

"Very well, then, Miss Bourdon." He spoke in his customary cold,
monotonous voice. "My business this evening is almost concluded. At what
hour to-morrow will it be most convenient for you to leave?"

"To leave?"

"To return to your friends in Maine. Such were Mr. Thorndyke's orders.
As you have no money of your own, I presume you are aware you cannot
remain here. Up to the present I am prepared to pay what is due the
Misses Waddle--I am to escort you in safety to Portland. After
that--'the world is all before you where to choose.' Such are my
master's orders."

She rose to her feet, suppressed passion in every line of her white
face, in every tone of her voice.

"The coward!" she said, almost in a whisper. "The base, base, base
coward! Sir, I will never go home! I will go down to the sea yonder, and
make an end of it all, but home again--never!"

"Ah, I thought not!" he said quietly. "Then, Miss Bourdon, may I ask
what you mean to do? You cannot stay here."

"No, I cannot stay here," she said bitterly. "I am utterly friendless
and homeless to-night. I don't know what to do."

"Let me tell you. Come to New York."

"Sir!"

"Our hatred of Laurence Thorndyke is a bond between us. You shall never
be friendless nor homeless while I live. I am old enough to be your
father; you may trust me, and ne