ntry into the
property and position from which he had, according to his own view,
been unjustly ousted; it would mean, last but not least, triumph over
George. And now chance, mighty chance (as fools call Providence), had
at last thrown into his hands a lever with which it would be easy to
topple over every stumbling-block that lay in his path to triumph;
more, he might even be able to spoil that Egyptian George, giving him
less than his due.

Oh, how he hungered for the broad acres of his birthright! longing for
them as a lover longs for his lost bride. The opportunity would never
come again; why should he throw it away? To do so would be to turn his
cousin into an open and implacable foe. Why should he allow this girl,
whose birth had bereft him of the only creature he had ever loved,
whose sex had alienated the family estates, and for whose company he
cared nothing, to come as a destruction on his plans? She would be
well-off; the man loved her. As for her being engaged to this young
Heigham, women soon got over those things. After all, now that he came
to think of the matter calmly, what valid cause was there why the
thing should not be?

And as he paced to and fro, and thought thus, an answer came into his
mind. For there rose up before him a vision of his dying wife, and
there sounded in his ears the murmur of her half-forgotten voice,
that, for all its broken softness, had, with its last accents, called
down God's winged vengeance and His everlasting doom on him who would
harm her unprotected child. And, feeling that if he did this thing, on
him would be the vengeance and the doom, he thought of the shadows of
the night, and grew afraid.

When Arthur and his host met, according to their custom, that evening,
no allusion was made on either side to their conversation of the
afternoon, nor did her father even speak a word to Angela on the
subject. Life, to all appearance, went on in the old house precisely
as though nothing had happened. Philip did not attempt to put the
smallest restraint on Arthur and his daughter, and studiously shut his
eyes to the pretty obvious signs of their mutual affection. For them,
the long June days were golden, but all too short. Every morning found
their mutual love more perfect, but when the flakes of crimson light
faded from the skies, and night dropped her veil over the tall trees
and peaceful lake, by some miracle it had grown deeper and more
perfect still. Day by day, Arthur d