have met before," said he at last, in a
cold, contemptuous tone, not unmingled with surprise, "have we not?"

Clarence endeavoured to answer, but could not; he was, for a moment,
incapable of speech; a slight gurgling noise was heard in his throat, as he
bowed affirmatively.

"We were neighbours at one time, I think," added George Stevens.

"We were," faintly ejaculated Clarence.

"It is a great surprise to me to meet _you_ here," pursued George Stevens.

"The surprise is mutual, I assure you, sir," rejoined Clarence, coldly, and
with slightly agitated manner.

Hereupon ensued an embarrassing pause in the conversation, during which the
ladies could not avoid observing the livid hue of Clarence's face. There
was a perfect tumult raging in his breast; he knew that now his
long-treasured secret would be brought out; this was to be the end of his
struggle to preserve it--to be exposed at last, when on the brink of
consummating his happiness. As he sat there, looking at George Stevens, he
became a murderer in his heart; and if an invisible dagger could have been
placed in his hands, he would have driven it to the hilt in his breast, and
stilled for ever the tongue that was destined to betray him.

But it was too late; one glance at the contemptuous, malignant face of the
son of his father's murderer, told him his fate was sealed--that it was
now too late to avert exposure. He grew faint, dizzy, ill,--and rising,
declared hurriedly he must go, staggered towards the door, and fell upon
the carpet, with a slight stream of blood spirting from his mouth.

Little Birdie screamed, and ran to raise him; George Stevens and Miss
Ellstowe gave their assistance, and by their united efforts he was placed
upon the sofa. Little Birdie wiped the bloody foam from his mouth with her
tiny lace handkerchief, bathed his head, and held cold water to his lips;
but consciousness was long returning, and they thought he was dying.

Poor torn heart! pity it was thy beatings were not stilled then for ever.
It was not thy fate; long, long months of grief and despair were yet to
come before the end approached and day again broke upon thee.

Just at this crisis Mr. Bates came in, and was greatly shocked and alarmed
by Clarence's deathly appearance. As he returned to consciousness he looked
wildly about him, and clasping little Birdie's hand in his, gazed at her
with a tender imploring countenance: yet it was a despairing look--such a
one as a shi