Liston,
I will present you to Mr. Darcy. We don't want Master Laurence to see
our little game. If you went as Mrs. Laurence, or Miss Kent, even, he
would. He will be sure to hear the name of Miss Holmes' successor.'

"But--you have forgotten--I may meet him. That"--her lips quivering--"I
could not bear."

"No danger at all. You will not go there until they are off on their
wedding tour. They do not return until May. In five months, judiciously
made use of, great things may happen."

She rose up, with a long, weary-worn sigh.

"I am in your hands, Mr. Liston. Friendless, moneyless, helpless, I
suppose I ought to thank you for this, but--I cannot. I know it is not
for my sake you are doing it, but for the sake of your revenge. Say what
you like of me when we go to New York; I am ready to follow where you
lead. Just now I am tired--we will not talk any more. Let us say
good-night."

She gave him her hand; it was like ice. He let it fall uneasily.

"And you will not fail me?" he asked.

"I shall not fail you," she answered. In what either said, it was not
necessary. They understood--revenge upon Laurence Thorndyke.

"To-morrow at twelve I will call for you here to take the train for New
York. You will be ready?"

"I will be ready." The door closed behind the small white figure, and he
was alone.

Alone, and he had not told her the truth, that in his opinion the
marriage was legal.

"Another time," he thought; "bigamy is an ugly crime. Let us wait until
he marries Miss Holmes."

CHAPTER XV.

"A FASHIONABLE WEDDING."

Another night had passed, another day had come. At twelve sharp Mr.
Liston and a hackney carriage had come for "Mrs. Laurence." Her trunks
had been packed by her own-hands. Mr. Liston had settled the claim of
the Misses Waddle, and white and still she had come out, shaken hands
with the kindly spinsters, entered the hack, fallen back in a corner,
her hand shading her eyes, and so was driven away from the Chelsea
cottage forever.

"And dead and in her shroud," said the younger Miss Waddle,
melo-dramatically, "she will never look more like death than she does
to-day."

She had scarcely slept the night through. That pleasant cottage chamber
overlooking the sea was haunted for her, full of memories that nearly
maddened her to-night. With all her heart she had loved--with all her
soul she had trusted. She stood here in the darkness, forsaken,
deceived. She hardly knew whether it were p