als. But now that he no longer desired to speak
passionately, he would not trust himself to speak at all. Suddenly Mr.
Lind broke out with a fury that astonished him, preoccupied as he was.

"This--this fellow must have had opportunities of thrusting himself into
her society of which I knew nothing. I thought she barely knew him. And
if I had known, could I have suspected her of intriguing with an
ill-bred adventurer! Yes, I might: my experience ought to have warned me
that the taint was in her blood. Her mother did the same thing--left the
position I had given her to run away with a charlatan, disgracing me
without the shadow of an excuse or reason except her own innate love for
what was low. I thought Marian had escaped that. I was proud of
her--placed un--unbounded confidence in her."

"She has struck me a blow," said Douglas, "the infernal treachery----."
He checked himself, and after a moment resumed in his ordinary formal
manner. "I must leave you, Mr. Lind. I am quite unable at present to
discuss what has passed. Any conventional expressions of regret would
be----Good-night."

He bowed and left the room. Mr. Lind, taken aback, did not attempt to
detain him or even return his bow, but stood biting his lips with a
frown of discomfiture and menace. When he was alone, he paced the room
several times. Then he procured some writing materials and sat down
before them. He wrote nothing, but, after sitting for some time, he went
upstairs. Passing Marian's room he listened. The sharp voice and
restless movements of his niece were the only sounds he heard. They
seemed to frighten him; for he stole on quickly to his own room, and
went to bed. Even there he could hear a shrill note of conversation
occasionally from the opposite room, where Marian was sitting on a sofa,
trying to subdue the hysteria which had been gaining on her since her
escape from the balcony; whilst Elinor, seated on the corner of a drawer
which projected from the dressing-table, talked incessantly in her most
acrid tones.

"Henceforth," she said, "Uncle Reginald is welcome to my heartiest
detestation. I have been waiting ever since I knew him for an excuse to
hate him; and now he has given me one. He has taken part--like a true
parent--against you with a self-intoxicated fool whom he ought to have
put out of the house. He has told me to mind my own business. I shall be
even with him for that some day. I am as vindictive as an elephant: I
hate people w