le' to Cardo Wynne. He is broken-hearted, and really,
if she perseveres in this unwarranted indignation, I think it will kill
him; and that is why I wanted to see her, for I still believe there
must be some mistake."

"Mistake! yes, yes, a horrible mistake. She never saw him at all. It
was I who spoke those cruel words to him!"

"Miss Powell! you! how can I believe such a thing?"

"Yes, yes, you must believe," she said, wringing her hands, "it is I
who have broken my sister's heart--the sister whom I would die to save
a moment's pain." And she rose to her feet, though her limbs trembled
with excitement. "It is my turn now to tell my story, and when I have
finished you will despise me, and you will have good reason."

"Never!" he said, "I can never feel anything towards you but--but--what
I must not dare to tell you."

A vivid blush swept over Gwladys's face; but the troubled look
returned, as Ellis, gently taking her hand, led her back to the log of
wood, and sitting beside her, said:

"Now, tell me everything."

"I must go a long way back," she said, "and begin with my own
uninteresting affairs. You know that Mrs. Power looks upon me as her
own daughter, and has expressed her intention of leaving me all her
money. Money! hateful money! the one thing I never cared about. I
should be happier far in a little cottage than I am here surrounded by
all these luxuries--it is true, Mr. Ellis, my tastes are simple."

"Certainly, you would grace a cottage or a palace alike," he said,
almost under his breath; "but we must all accept the position in which
we are placed, and do our best in that."

"Well," resumed Gwladys, "I have had three proposals of marriage, and
on each occasion my aunt pressed me to accept the offer. I refused to
do so, unless I were allowed time and opportunity to make the most
exhaustive inquiries as to my disinterested lover's antecedents. My
heart not being touched, I was able to do so dispassionately, and in
each case I discovered something dishonourable in their characters.
One I found was on the brink of pecuniary ruin, I therefore considered
I had a right to think he loved my fortune and not myself. The next,
though a man of honour and probity, I found had such an ungovernable
temper that his own sisters failed to live with him. The third was a
widower. He had broken his wife's heart by his cruelty, and since her
death his life had been one long scene of dissipation. Was it any