ess by
one thought--the partner in her guilt was his old enemy; a man too vile
for vengeance, even.

That memory brought all the hardness back to his face, all the insane
passion to his soul, but it centered on the man now.

That night, in the woman's very presence, he could not take the
vengeance that he meditated, but now he was prepared to force her from
the villain's grasp--on to repentance.

Alone in his library, Grantley Mellen wrote several letters; it was
impossible to tell how that meeting would end, and he must make
preparations for the worst. When all was done he rose to go upstairs
again; a sudden resolution made him pause. He sat down at his desk once
more, and wrote these lines:

"ELIZABETH--I said that even in your dying hour, I would never
forgive you: I retract. If my pardon can console your last moments,
remember that it is yours. I have made no alteration in my will; if
you can accept the benefits which may accrue to you by my death,
take them; but so surely as you ever attempt to approach the
innocent girl who has been so long endangered by your
companionship, my curse shall follow you, even from the grave to
which you will have consigned me."

He put the note in an envelope, sealed it carefully, and addressed
it--"To Elizabeth."

These were necessary precautions. The man who had twice wronged him
possessed the fierce courage of a bravo. If Elizabeth was found with
him, death might come to one of them--even if that followed, the woman
who had been his wife should never share the degrading future of a man
too vile for personal vengeance. In mercy to her he would separate them.

He found Elsie sitting up in bed. She shrank away among the pillows when
he entered; he saw the movement, and it shook his heart with a new pang.
This artful woman had drawn the spell of her fascinations as closely
about that pure girl as she had enthralled him. Elsie shrank from the
brother who had deprived her of the love on which she had leaned.
Elizabeth had left him nothing but bitterness.

"Are you feeling better?" he asked, sitting down by the bed.

"Oh, I never shall be any better," she murmured; "I shall die, and then,
perhaps, you will be sorry."

Mellen could not be angry with her; it wounded and stung him to hear her
speak thus, but he answered, patiently:

"When you are able to reflect, Elsie, you will see that I could not have
acted differently. Few men would h