inary power, and at its close the people
would not depart until she had appeared in acknowledgment of their
plaudits.

Brilliantly beautiful she looked, with the glittering light of
triumph in her large mesmeric eyes, a rich glow mantling her cheeks,
and rouging her lips; while in heavy folds the black velvet robe
swept around her queenly figure. How stately, elegant, unapproachable
she seemed to the man who leaned forward, gazing with all his heart
in his eyes upon the wife of his youth, the only woman he had ever
really loved, now his most implacable foe!

The audience dispersed, and Cuthbert and his father sat like those
old Roman Senators, awaiting the breaking of the wave of savage
vengeance that was rolling in upon them.

At length General Laurance struggled to his feet, and mechanically
quitted the theatre, followed by his son. Reaching the carriage, they
entered, and Cuthbert ordered the coachman to drive to Mrs. Orme's
hotel.

"Not now! For God's sake, not to-night," groaned the old man.

"To-night, before another hour, this awful imposture must be
confessed, and reparation offered. I sinned against Minnie, but not
premeditatedly. You deceived me. You made me believe her the foul,
guilty thing you wished her. You intercepted her letters, you never
let me know that I had a child neglected and forsaken; and, father,
God may forgive you, but I never can. My proud, lovely Minnie! My own
wife!"

Cuthbert buried his face in his hands, and his strong frame shook as
he pictured what might have been, contrasting it with the hideous
reality of his loveless and miserable marriage with the banker's
daughter, who threatened him with social disgrace.

During that drive General Laurance felt that he was approaching some
offended and avenging Fury, that he was drifting down to ruin,
powerless to lift his hand and stay even for an instant the fatal
descent; that he was gradually petrifying, and things seemed vague
and intangible.

When they reached the hotel, they were ushered into the salon already
brilliantly lighted as if in expectation of their arrival. Cuthbert
paced the floor; his father sank into a chair, resting his hands on
the top of his cane.

After a little while, a silk curtain at the lower end of the room was
lifted, and Mrs. Orme came slowly forward. How her lustrous eyes
gleamed as she stood in the centre of the apartment, scorn, triumph,
hate, all struggling for mastery in her lovely face.

"Gent