to bum into his soul, and her lips moved:

"Never!"

That was the only word that she said.

CHAPTER LXIV.

THE MASQUERADE.

Obed Chute came home one day full of news, and particularly dilated
upon the grandeur of a masquerade ball which was to take place at the
Villa Rinalci. He wished to go, and to take Zillah. The idea filled
all his mind, and his excitement was speedily communicated to Zillah,
and to Lord Chetwynde, who happened to be there at the time. Obed had
learned that it was to be conducted with the highest degree of
magnificence. He had talked about it with some Americans with whom he
had met in the cafe, and, as he had never seen one, he was eager to
go. Lord Chetwynde expressed the same desire, and Zillah at once
showed a girlish enthusiasm that was most gratifying to Obed. It was
soon decided that they all should go. A long conversation followed
about the dresses, and each one selected what commended itself as the
most agreeable or becoming. Obed intended to dress as a Western
trapper, Zillah as an Athenian maid of the classic days, while Lord
Chetwynde decided upon the costume of the Cavaliers. A merry evening
was spent in settling upon these details, for the costume of each one
was subjected to the criticism of the others, and much laughter arose
over the various suggestions that were made from time to time about
the best costume.

For some days Lord Chetwynde busied himself about his costume. He had
to have it made especially for the occasion, and tailors had to be
seen, and measurements had to be taken. Of course this did not
interfere in the smallest degree with his constant attendance upon
Zillah, for every day he was punctual at the trysting-place or in the
villa.

Meanwhile Hilda's intolerable anxiety had taken another and a very
natural turn. She began to feel intensely curious about the object of
Lord Chetwynde's daily occupations. Having once come to the
conclusion that there was a woman in the case, every hour only
strengthened this conviction, until at length it was as firmly fixed
in her mind as the belief in her own existence. The pangs of jealousy
which she suffered from this cause were as extreme as those which she
had suffered before from fear, or anxiety, or suspense, both when
hurrying on to save Lord Chetwynde, and when watching at his bedside.
In her wild, ungovernable passion and her uncontrollable love she
felt the same vehement jealousy which a betrothed mistre