the
best thing that we can do is to put out the lights and go to bed," and
she laughed again and courtesied with much assumed playfulness. "Good-
night, Mr. Cossey; good-night, and good-bye."

He held out his hand. "Come, Belle," he said, "don't let us part like
this."

She shook her head and once more put her arms behind her. "No," she
answered, "I will not take your hand. Of my own free will I shall
never touch it again, for to me it is like the hand of the dead. Good-
bye, once more; good-bye to you, Edward, and to all the happiness that
I ever had. I built up my life upon my love for you, and you have
shattered it like glass. I do not reproach you; you have followed
after your nature and I must follow after mine, and in time all things
will come right--in the grave. I shall not trouble you any more,
provided that you do not try to marry Ida, for that I will not bear.
And now go, for I am very tired," and turning, she rang the bell for
the servant to show him out.

In another minute he was gone. She listened till she heard the front
door close behind him, and then gave way to her grief. Flinging
herself upon the sofa, she covered her face with her hands and moaned
bitterly, weeping for the past, and weeping, too, for the long
desolate years that were to come. Poor woman! whatever was the measure
of her sin it had assuredly found her out, as our sins always do find
us out in the end. She had loved this man with a love which has no
parallel in the hearts of well-ordered and well-brought-up women. She
never really lived till this fatal passion took possession of her, and
now that its object had deserted her, her heart felt as though it was
dead within her. In that short half-hour she suffered more than many
women do in their whole lives. But the paroxysm passed, and she rose
pale and trembling, with set teeth and blazing eyes.

"He had better be careful," she said to herself; "he may go, but if he
tries to marry Ida I will keep my word--yes, for her sake as well as
his."

When Edward Cossey came to consider the position, which he did
seriously, on the following morning, he did not find it very
satisfactory. To begin with, he was not altogether a heartless man,
and such a scene as that which he had passed through on the previous
evening was in itself quite enough to upset his nerves. At one time,
at any rate, he had been much attached to Mrs. Quest; he had never
borne her any violent affection; that had all been o