for the best on earth--a love of which I
feel myself unworthy. Stay, not a syllable. Those were cruel words,
but the words of truth. Now we understand one another, let us draw a
veil over the past, never to refer to it again. You will know me better
soon."

As he spoke, there was a little bustle in the hall, where visitors were
constantly arriving; and as Vanleigh stood gazing down in the pale,
frightened face before him, watching the struggle that was going on, a
plainly dressed woman brushed by the servant, who tried to stay her, and
reached the stairs.

"Forgive me, Valentina," whispered Vanleigh, bending over her. "I
touched the wound but to try and heal it. My future life shall be all
devotion; and in the happiness to come you will--"

Tiny half rose; and he was about offering his arm to conduct her back to
the drawing-room, when a voice below arrested him.

"Don't stop me! I must see him. I know he is here."

"But you can't, you know. Here, Edward!"

It was one of the servants who called, but he was too late; the strange
visitor had already reached the landing as Sir Hampton hurried down,
aghast at such a daring interruption.

At that moment the woman uttered a cry of joy, and darted towards where
Vanleigh stood with his companion.

"Oh, Arthur!" she cried, "they would not bring a message. I was obliged
to force my way in."

"Who is this madwoman?" cried Vanleigh, turning of a waxy pallor, while
Tiny clung to the balustrade for support.

"Yes; mad--almost!" cried the woman, with a piteous cry. "But come--
come at once! She is praying to see you once more. Arthur, Arthur,"
she panted, sinking at his knees, and clasping them, "for God's sake,
come--our darling is on the point of death!"

"Who is this woman? Er-rum--Edward--James!" cried Sir Hampton, "where
are the police?"

"Don't touch me!" cried the unwelcome visitor, starting to her feet; and
her words came panting from her breast. "Quiet, Arthur, or it's too
late! Sir," she cried, turning to Sir Hampton, whose hand was on her
arm, "I am Captain Vanleigh's wife!"

Volume 3, Chapter XVI.

TOO LATE.

Frank Pratt, the successful barrister, saw a portion of the scene from
the pavement outside, where he formed one of the little crowd by the
awning. He had been restlessly walking up and down, watching the lights
and shadows on the blinds. He had gazed in at the open door at what
seemed to him a paradise, as he heard the music and