a secret between Dolf and
herself; it seemed like paying off old scores, and though in a friendly
mood, Clorinda was a woman still.

"'Splain or not, jis' as yer please," said Vic, tossing her head,
viciously, "it's quite 'material to me."

But Dolf gave a voluble account of what his master and mistress had said
and done the night the bracelet was lost, and ornamented the
conversation beautifully, calling on Clorinda to set him right if he
erred, and the points where Clo most loudly expressed her approval as
being the exact words spoken, were those Dolf embroidered most highly.

"Why, dar goes marster now," exclaimed Victoria, suddenly. "He's gwine
out to walk."

They all rushed to the window to look, as if there had been something
wonderful in the sight, and just then Sally rushed in with a cry:

"The soup's bilin' over, Clo; come--quick!"

CHAPTER LVIII.

THE INTERCEPTED TELEGRAM.

That afternoon confinement in the house became so irksome to Grantley
Mellen that he could support it no longer, so he put on his hat and
hurried out into the grounds.

Upon one point his mind was fully made up. The clue to the mystery
appeared to be in his hands; he would follow it out to the end now--he
would know the worst. If this woman had wronged him he resolved to sweep
her out of his life, even as he had done that false one in years gone
by.

That thought drove him nearly mad, it recalled that writing. Should it
prove the same! If this man had a second time thrust himself into his
life to blacken it with his treachery and hate! Terrible words died,
half uttered, on Mellen's lips, his face was fairly livid with passion,
a loathing and a hatred which only blood could wipe out.

Below the house the lawn and gardens led away into a grove, and towards
its gloom Mellen mechanically directed his steps under the cold, gray
sky. A chill wind was blowing up from the water, but he did not observe
it; in the fever which consumed him the air seemed absolutely stifling,
and he hurried on, increasing its excess by rapid movements.

He was in the grove, walking up and down, with no settled purpose,
striving only to escape those maddening thoughts which still clung to
him.

The wind was shaking the few remaining leaves from the trees and blowing
them about in rustling dreariness, the frosts had already touched the
grass and ferns, and though the place on a bright day would still have
been lovely, it looked bare and melancho