ces of
honor, discoursed to Isabel privately on "my brother-in-law Hardyman's
infernal temper." A young marquis, on her other side--a mere lad,
chosen to make the necessary speech in acknowledgment of his superior
rank--rose, in a state of nervous trepidation, to propose Isabel's
health as the chosen bride of their host. Pale and trembling, conscious
of having forgotten the words which he had learnt beforehand, this
unhappy young nobleman began: "Ladies and gentlemen, I haven't an
idea--" He stopped, put his hand to his head, stared wildly, and sat
down again; having contrived to state his own case with masterly brevity
and perfect truth, in a speech of seven words.

While the dismay, in some cases, and the amusement in others, was still
at its height, Hardyman's valet made his appearance, and, approaching
his master, said in a whisper, "Could I speak to you, sit, for a moment
outside?"

"What the devil do you want?" Hardyman asked irritably. "Is that a
letter in your hand? Give it to me."

The valet was a Frenchman. In other words, he had a sense of what was
due to himself. His master had forgotten this. He gave up the letter
with a certain dignity of manner, and left the tent. Hardyman opened the
letter. He turned pale as he read it; crumpled it in his hand, and threw
it down on the table. "By G--d! it's a lie!" he exclaimed furiously.

The guests rose in confusion. Mrs. Drumblade, finding the letter within
her reach, coolly possessed herself of it; recognized her mother's
handwriting; and read these lines:

"I have only now succeeded in persuading your father to let me write
to you. For God's sake, break off your marriage at any sacrifice. Your
father has heard, on unanswerable authority, that Miss Isabel Miller
left her situation in Lady Lydiard's house on suspicion of theft."

While his sister was reading this letter, Hardyman had made his way to
Isabel's chair. "I must speak to you, directly," he whispered. "Come
away with me!" He turned, as he took her arm, and looked at the table.
"Where is my letter?" he asked. Mrs. Drumblade handed it to him,
dexterously crumpled up again as she had found it. "No bad news, dear
Alfred, I hope?" she said, in her most affectionate manner. Hardyman
snatched the letter from her, without answering, and led Isabel out of
the tent.

"Read that!" he said, when they were alone. "And tell me at once whether
it's true or false."

Isabel read the letter. For a moment the shock o