The hapless young wife looked into the hard, set face above her, her eyes dilating with fear.

Her brain reeled; it seemed to her that she was dying.

"Listen to what I have to say," exclaimed Royal Ainsley, his hand tightening on her shoulder. "You have a fine home here—much finer than I could possibly offer you—and I propose that you shall keep it. There is no use in wasting sentiment between us. We do not care for each other, and you do care for Eugene Mallard. It will be some satisfaction for you to live beneath this roof, and I won't mind it at all, providing you make it worth my while. I will make my meaning clearer to you. I must have some money, and you are the one who must help me to it. Get a thousand dollars, and I will go away and never again molest you. Come, now, what do you say?"

Ida drew back and looked at him.

"You know that I could not get it for you," she said, with calmness.

"You know the alternative," he said, harshly.

"No matter what the alternative is, I—I could not help you," she answered, huskily.

"If you refuse," he went on, "I can have Eugene Mallard and yourself arrested for bigamy. I can send you both to prison, and, so help me Heaven, I'll do it! You say that you love Eugene Mallard. We will see if you love him well enough to save him."

"You monster!" she gasped, wildly, "you would not do such a thing, I say. You dare not outrage Heaven like that."

"The shoe is on the other foot. It is you who have outraged Heaven in violating the law. I must have that money, and you know I am a desperate man."

He would not tell her just now that her child was alive. He would save that piece of news for some other time.

Before she could reply, they saw some of the servants crossing the lawn.

"I must go!" she cried, wrenching herself free from his grasp. "They have come in search of me!"

"I shall be here to-morrow night at this very spot awaiting your answer," he said, harshly.

Why had Heaven let Royal Ainsley find her? Had he not already brought misery enough into her life?

She turned the matter over in her mind. Every word he had said, every threat he had made, occurred to her.

Would he make good his threat, and take vengeance upon the man she loved if she refused to raise one thousand dollars for him?

She knew he was what he had said—a desperate man.

Oh, if she had but dared creep into the library, throw herself at Eugene Mallard's feet, and tell him all, what woe would have been spared her. But, alas! she dared not.

Heaven help her! How could she leave Eugene Mallard, whom she loved better than life.

She crept up to her room, and during the long hours of the night she fought the fiercest battle that woman ever fought with herself. If she gave Royal Ainsley the money he had asked for, he would certainly go away and never cross her path again.

Her heart leaped at the thought. The thought that she was still bound to Royal Ainsley brought with it the most poignant grief—a feeling of horror.

She did realize what it meant to live there beneath that roof, even after she had found out the truth—that she was not Eugene Mallard's wife.

What harm was there in living in the home of the man she loved, seeing that they were so far apart in heart as well as in purpose?

"No, I can not tear myself away from the only one I have ever loved!" she cried. "If I were living here with Eugene Mallard as his wife, then my duty would be plain—I would have to leave here at once."

No, no! Come what might, she could not tear herself away from Eugene Mallard.

In the drawer of her writing-desk lay a roll of bills which Eugene had handed her the day before, to purchase new furniture for her suite of rooms.

"Select it the first day you go to the city," he had said.

She had intended purchasing it the following week.

Now she went hurriedly to her desk, took out the roll of bills, and counted them.

There was just a thousand dollars. She drew a great sigh of relief. That would buy Royal Ainsley's eternal silence. Before handing it to him, she would swear him to secrecy forever.

She never knew how she lived through the next day.

There was not a moment that Royal Ainsley's handsome, cruel, sneering face did not appear before her.

How she loathed him! She hated, with fierce, intense hatred, the very sound of his name.

Night came at last.

The few guests that were stopping at the house were assembled in the drawing-room, and it was not an easy matter to find some convenient excuse to get away from them.

But when the hands of the clock on the mantel pointed to the hour of eight, she felt that she must get away.

Some one suggested playing a piece of music which she had taken to her room the day before to study.

"I will go and search for it," she said; and with that remark she glided from the room.

How dark the night was! She almost shivered as she touched the graveled walk and hurried down to the brook-side.

When this night had passed away, a life-time of happiness would lay before her. The wind moaned fitfully among the trees, and the branches of the tall oaks swayed to and fro. She heard the murmur of the brook before she reached it, and as she drew near and became accustomed to the dim light, she saw a tall man pacing up and down.

He did not hear the light step on the grass. He was muttering imprecations that made the girl's heart turn cold with dread as she listened. Then he saw her.

"Ah! you have come!" he eagerly called out. "It is well for you that you did," he continued, "for I had just made up my mind to go to the house and ask for you."

In the dim light he saw her recoil. Although she made no answer, he fancied he could almost hear the wild throbbing of her heart.

"Did you bring the money?" he asked.

"Yes," she answered hoarsely; "but before I give it to you, I shall exact a solemn promise that you will never come near me again!"

"Certainly you shall have the promise—a dozen of them if you like," he cried, forcing back an insolent laugh.

"You must solemnly promise that you will never come near me again if I give this money to you," she said.

"No," he answered; "I will never come near you. I will go abroad. Does that satisfy you?"

"Yes," she answered. "Only go so far away that I shall never see your face again."

He closed his hand eagerly over the money, saying to himself that it was a veritable gold mine that he had found.

"Let me go!" she panted, as he put out his hand to touch her.

With the swiftness of a startled deer, she fled past him into the darkness of the grounds.

Royal Ainsley laughed harshly.

"This money will last me for a few weeks, my lady," he muttered, "and then—Ah! we shall see!"