hat
you have consented to see him. Unless you tell him so yourself, he will
never believe it."

"But how can I tell him?" asked the girl.

"Write on a piece of paper, 'Come at the hour and place your sister
appoints. I wish to see you.' Then he will come. I am writing tonight,
and will enclose the note."

It would rather take from her queenlike attitude, she thought; but as
she had promised the kindness, it would not be graceful to dispute as to
how it should be granted; so, under the guidance of the woman to whom
her innocent youth was entrusted, she sealed her fate with her own
hands.

CHAPTER V.

"How am I to thank you?" said Adelaide Lyster to the girl she had
betrayed. "I have a letter from Allan, and he says the very thought of
seeing you has given him a fresh life--fresh energy. I have never read
anything so rapturous in my life. Do you wish to see the letter?"

As Marion Arleigh read the passionate, poetical words that had been
written expressly for her, her face flushed. How wonderful it was to
hold a man's life in her hands--to sway a genius so that her nod meant
stay or go, her least words meant happiness or misery! She looked around
with something of pity for other girls who had not this new and
wonderful sensation.

"A life in her hands!" There came to her, young as she was, a vague idea
of woman's power for good or for evil. A cruel or cold word from her,
and the artist would go in his misery only to seek death in some far-off
land. A kind word, and he would remain--his genius would have its sway,
and he would paint pictures that the world should glory in.

"I have arranged it all," said Miss Lyster. "Miss Carleton is going
to-day to that grand dinner-party at Macdonald's. She has given orders
that the young ladies shall go over to Herrington, and take some
refreshments with them--it will be a picnic on a small scale. You can
excuse yourself from going. I will volunteer to remain with you, and
toward sunset, we will walk through the old orchard. Allan will await us
there."

The girl's heart beat; it was a romantic dream after all--that strange,
wonderful reality; the interview she had so often imagined was to take
place at last.

"I cannot tell an untruth," she said to Miss Lyster; "I could not if I
tried. How could I excuse myself from going?"

Adelaide looked slightly shocked.

"I would not ask you to speak untruthfully, not even to save Allan's
life, dearly as I love him," she s