with
impatient steps. There was a secret pleasure in his heart as he marked
all the agitation that moved her, and thought what a share he himself
had in it all. At last she withdrew within the room, but the opening and
shutting of a door followed, and he surmised that she had passed out.
While he was disputing with himself whether she might have followed Mark
to his room, he heard a footstep on the gravel, and saw that she was
standing and tapping with her finger on the window of his chamber.
Maitland hurried eagerly back. "Is it possible that I see you here, Mrs.
Trafford," cried he, "at this hour?"

She started, and for a moment seemed too much overcome to answer, when
she said: "You may believe that it is no light cause brings me; and even
now I tremble at what I am doing: but I have begun and I 'll go on. Let
us walk this way, for I want to speak with you."

"Will you take my arm?" said Maitland, but without anything of gallantry
in his tone.

"No,--yes, I will," said she, hurriedly; and now for some paces they
moved along side by side in silence.

"Mr. Maitland," said she at last, "a silly speech I made to-day at
dinner has led to a most serious result, and Commodore Graham and you
have quarrelled."

"Forgive me if I interrupt you. Nothing that fell from you has
occasioned any rupture between Commodore Graham and myself; for that I
can pledge you my word of honor."

"But you have quarrelled. Don't deny it."

"We had a very stupid discussion, and a difference; and I believe, if
the Commodore would have vouchsafed me a patient hearing, he would have
seen that he had really nothing to complain of on my part. I am quite
ready to make the same explanation to any friend he will depute to
receive it."

"It was, however, what I said about your driving over with Miss Rebecca
Graham to the Burnside that led to all this."

"Nothing of the kind, I assure you."

"Well, I don't care for the reason," said she, impatiently; "but you
have had a quarrel, and are about to settle it by a duel. I have no
doubt," continued she, more rapidly, "that you, Mr. Maitland, can treat
this sort of thing very lightly. I suppose it is part of your code
as man of the world to do so; but this old man is a father; his life,
however little you may think of it, is of very great consequence to his
family; he is an old friend and neighbor whom we all care for, and any
mishap that might befall him would be a calamity to us all."

"Pray cont