soul, than the voice of a living woman.

"So all is lost, and nothing left but these--REVENGE and DEATH!" she
muttered.

The awful spirit of her race overshadowed her and possessed her. She
felt that, to destroy the destroyer of her peace, she would be willing
to meet and suffer all that man could inflict upon her body, or devil
do to her soul! And so she brooded, until suddenly out of this
trance-like state she started, as if a serpent had stung her.

"I linger here," she cried, "while they--Where are they, the traitor and
his temptress? I will seek them through the house; I will tear them
asunder, and confront them in their treachery."

Meanwhile where were they, the false friend and the fascinated husband?

Lyon Berners, much relieved from anxiety by the departure of the last
guests, but still deeply displeased with his wife, had retired to the
little morning parlor to collect himself. He stood now upon the rug,
with his back to the smouldering fire, absorbed in sombre thought. He
loved his wife, bitterly angry as he had been with her this evening, and
prone as he was to fall under the spell of the fair siren who was now
his temptress. He loved his wife, and he wished to insure her peace. He
resolved to break off, at once and forever, the foolish flirtation with
a shallow coquette which his deep-hearted Sybil had taken so earnestly.
How to do this, occupied his thoughts now. He knew that it would be
difficult, or impossible to do it, as long as Rosa Blondelle remained in
the same house with himself. He felt that he could not ask her to go and
find another home; for to do so would be rude, inhospitable, and even
cruel to the homeless and friendless young stranger.

What should he do, then?

It occurred to him that he might make some fair excuse to take Sybil to
the city, and spend the ensuing winter there with her, leaving Rosa
Blondelle in full possession of Black Hall until she should choose to
make arrangements to return to her own country. This or something else
must be done, for the flirtation with Rosa must never be resumed. In the
midst of these good resolutions he was interrupted.

Meanwhile, Rosa Blondelle had been as deeply mortified and enraged by
the sudden desertion and continued coolness of Lyon Berners, as it was
in her shallow nature to be. She went to her own room, but she could not
remain there. She came out into the long narrow passage leading to the
front hall, and she paced up and down wi