irable as he appeared in all lights save the one in
which his too evident connection with this crime had placed him. I spent
the hours of the afternoon in alternately watching the sleeping face
of my patient, too sweetly calm in its repose, or so it seemed, for the
mind beneath to harbor such doubts as were shown in the warning I had
ascribed to her, and vain efforts to explain by any other hypothesis
than that of guilt, the extraordinary evidence which linked this man of
great affairs and the loftiest repute to a crime involving both theft
and murder.

Nor did the struggle end that night. It was renewed with still greater
positiveness the next day, as I witnessed the glances which from time to
time passed between this father and daughter,--glances full of doubt and
question on both sides, but not exactly such doubt or such question as
my suspicions called for. Or so I thought, and spent another day or two
hesitating very much over my duty, when, coming unexpectedly upon
Mr. Grey one evening, I felt all my doubts revive in view of the
extraordinary expression of dread--I might with still greater truth
say fear--which informed his features and made them, to my unaccustomed
eyes, almost unrecognizable.

He was sitting at his desk in reverie over some papers which he seemed
not to have touched for hours, and when, at some movement I made, he
started up and met my eye, I could swear that his cheek was pale, the
firm carriage of his body shaken, and the whole man a victim to some
strong and secret apprehension he vainly sought to hide, when I
ventured to tell him what I wanted, he made an effort and pulled himself
together, but I had seen him with his mask off, and his usually calm
visage and self-possessed mien could not again deceive me.

My duties kept me mainly at Miss Grey's bedside, but I had been provided
with a little room across the hall, and to this room I retired very soon
after this, for rest and a necessary understanding with myself.

For, in spite of this experience and my now settled convictions,
my purpose required whetting. The indescribable charm, the extreme
refinement and nobility of manner observable in both Mr. Grey and
his daughter were producing their effect. I felt guilty; constrained.
whatever my convictions, the impetus to act was leaving me. How could
I recover it? By thinking of Anson Durand and his present disgraceful
position.

Anson Durand! Oh, how the feeling surged up in my breast as th