. He did not appear to notice her words or her
offered hand, but spoke in a strange, broken voice, after clearing his
parched throat once or twice, huskily:

"When did they go? At what hour?"

She told him as well as she could.

"Where have they gone to?"

"I have not the least idea. Bella gave no hint of this. Would you like
to see her note?" and she held it out to him.

The name appeared to sting him like the cut of a whip, for he started
convulsively as he took the scrap of paper. He read it through more than
once, as if unable to comprehend it; the power of discrimination seemed
blasted in his dry, red eyeballs; they could only glare.

He made it out at last, and crumpled it up in his hand, clenching it
till the knuckles became dead-white under the strain.

"We were to have been married this day month," he said to himself, in a
hoarse whisper; then raising his voice, "You can guess, at least, which
route they have taken?"

"Indeed I can not," she answered; "I would have done any thing to
prevent this; but you must see that pursuit now would be worse than
useless; it could only lead to fresh evils."

Then the smouldering passion burst into a flame.

"It is false," he cried out; "you would have done nothing. It is a plot.
You are all in it; you, your son, and more that I will know soon. I saw
it from the first moment I set foot in this cursed house. And you think
I will not be revenged? Wait--wait and see!" He spoke rapidly, but it
seemed as if the words could hardly force their way through his gnashing
teeth.

Good and kind-hearted as she was, there breathed no prouder woman than
Lady Catharine Livingstone. Before he had ended her hand was on the
bell.

"Not even your disappointment can excuse your language," she said, in
her clear, vibrating tones; "our interview is ended. I have pitied you
hitherto, and blamed my niece; I do neither now: she knew you better
than I. Not one word more. Mr. Bruce's carriage."

Bruce glared at her savagely. He would have sold his soul, I believe,
to have strangled her where she stood; but Guy's own peculiar look was
in the cold, disdainful eyes, which met his without flinching or
faltering. He knew that look very well, and quailed under it now, as he
had done many times before.

"A last piece of advice," Lady Catharine said, as he turned to go; "you
had better curb your temper if you think of seeing my son. He may
scarcely be so patient with you as I have been."

If