ere was something wrong with Miles," she said. "He was
not happy. He had married in haste and repented at leisure."

For my own part, I had no hope. Remembering the subtle, seductive beauty
of the woman, I could well imagine Miles being led, even against
himself, into a marriage or anything else.

When they were gone I went back to the library. I wanted to face this
terrible blow alone, to realize the possibility that instead of being
Sir Edgar Trevelyan, of Crown Anstey, wealthy, honored and powerful, I
was Edgar Trevelyan, poor, homeless and penniless.

Could it be possible that after this life of ease, luxury and happiness,
I was to fall back into the old position--hard, monotonous labor, with
eighty pounds per annum?

It seemed too hard. Do not think any the worse of me, reader, if I own
that the tears came into my eyes. It was bitterly hard.

Without warning Coralie entered the room. It must have been a triumph to
her to see the tears in my eyes. She stood at some little distance from
me.

"Edgar," she asked, "do you hate me?"

"No! I am too just to hate you for claiming what is your own. You ought
to have told me before, Coralie. It has been most cruel to let me live
in this delusive dream. If you had told me that night when I came here
first, it would have been a momentary disappointment, but I should have
gone back to my work none the worse for it."

"I might have done it, but I saw in this, my secret power, the means of
winning you. Edgar, it is not too late even now. Make me mistress of
Crown Anstey, and I will find the means of restoring your lost position
to you."

I turned from her in unutterable loathing. She was so lost to all
womanly honor and delicacy, my whole soul revolted against her.

"Not another word, Coralie. I would not take Crown Anstey from you if
the alternative were death!"

"That is very decisive," she replied, with the mocking smile I dreaded.
"We shall see."

"You will keep your word to me?" I cried, hastily. "You will say nothing
to Clare? She will soon be well. I could not bear to have any obstacles
thrown in the way of her recovery. When I leave her, my friends will
make some arrangements to spare her the shock of knowing why--at least,
for a time."

"I shall respect your wishes, Edgar. I have no desire to hurt your
sister. She is quite safe, so far as I am concerned."

It may be imagined that I did not sleep very well that night. Early on
the following morning Sir Jo