oo late--too late!"

For the bud of love had been lying dormant in her breast, waiting to
expand, and it was opening fast now, as she felt, but only to be
withered as its petals fell apart.

Hurried on by Barron's impetuous advances, approved as a suitor by her
father, her betrothed's courtship had carried all before it. His
attentions had pleased her, and she had reproached herself at times
after he had complained that she was cold. One evening, when assailed
by doubts of herself, she had appealed to her father and asked him if he
wished her to marry Mr Barron, and she recalled his words when she had
dreamily said that she did not think she loved him.

"Why, of course I wish it, my darling," he cried; "and as to the love--
oh, that will come. Don't let schoolgirl fancies and romances which you
have read influence you, my child. You esteem Mr Barron, do you not?"

She had said that she did, and then let herself subside into a dreamy
state, principally taken up by thoughts of the change, the preparations
for that change, and visions of the glorious country--all sunshine,
languor, and delights--which Barron never seemed to tire of painting.

But now the awakening had come--now that it was too late!

That night, hollow-eyed, and as if he had risen from a sick bed, Malcolm
sat writing in his chambers by the light of his shaded lamp. The old
panelled room looked weird and strange, and dark shadows lurked in the
corners and were cast by the flickering flames of the fire on his left.

Since his return from the Jerrolds' he had gone through a phase of agony
and despair so terrible that his actions, hidden from all within that
solitary room, had resembled those of the insane; but at last the calm
had come, and after sitting for some time looking his position in the
face, he had set to work writing two or three letters, and then
commenced one full of instructions to Percy Guest, telling him how to
act when he received that letter, asking his forgiveness, and ending by
saying:

I cannot face it. You will call me a coward, perhaps, but you would
not if you could grasp all. I am perfectly calm now, sensible of the
awful responsibilities of my act, but after what I have gone through
since I have been here alone to-day I know perfectly well that my
reason is failing, and that in a few hours the paroxysm will return,
finding me weaker than before. Better the end at once than after a
few months' or years' l