Miss Fernly had made her resolution. She would interview this man when he came. She would foil him, this fiend in human form, who would wed one young and lovely girl after bringing sorrow to another.

When Miss Fernly made up her mind to a course, nothing could change it.

"What I am about to do is for Hildegarde's good," she told herself grimly. "There will be a few tears at first, but the time will come when she will thank me with all her heart for saving her from such a consummate rascal. The woman of our race have never forgiven men who have deceived other women. Hildegarde should not be an exception to the rule. She is young now, but when she comes to know more about life she will thank me for saving her."

"Now," said her aunt, aloud, depositing herself in the nearest chair, and deliberately removing her hat and mantle, "tell me about this sweetheart of yours."

Hildegarde came over to the hassock and flung herself down upon it and looked up with laughing eyes into her aunt's face.

"I sent you his picture," she said, "because you did not seem inclined to come here to meet him, auntie, so that you could see for yourself just how he looks. But it does not do him justice," went on Hildegarde, clasping her hands. "That portrait does not tell you how good and noble he is, and how much he thinks of me!"

An expression that was almost divine came over the face of Hildegarde Cramer as she uttered the words in a low, sweet voice.

"Tell me about him," again urged her aunt, anxious to fathom just how deep was the love the girl bore him.

Should she confide in Hildegarde the story of Ida May, Miss Fernly knew that the present state of affairs must end.

There were girls who would turn in horror from a man who had done as cruel a deed as that which was laid at the door of the man whom Hildegarde was about to marry. But might not Hildegarde cling to him despite all?

"He is all that is noble," continued Hildegarde, dreamily.

"What if he should cease to love you?" said her aunt.

Hildegarde started; a quiver of pain passed over the lovely face.

"Cease to love me!" she repeated. "Ah! do you know what would happen to me, auntie, if that were to occur? I should die, that is all. When all was gone that made life worth living, how could I live?"

"It is not easy to die," said Miss Fernly, huskily.

"It would be easy for me," declared Hildegarde.

"One can not live without a heart, and I have given mine to my love."

She continued to talk of her lover in a sweet, girlish fashion; but Miss Fernly scarcely heard a word she said, she was so engrossed in her own thoughts and plans.

"You would be so glad if you knew just how perfectly happy I am, auntie," she went on, in a half-dreamy fashion. "Why, it doesn't seem the same world to me. He came into my life as the sun breaks upon the flowers, suddenly, swiftly, and all at once my life became complete. I met him on board the steamer. I shall never forget how it came about. I had just come upon deck, and was about to walk to the railing, when the ship suddenly gave a lurch and I fell forward. I would have fallen to the deck had not a young man who was standing near-by sprung quickly forward and caught me. That was the beginning of our acquaintance. My mother, who had followed me on deck, thanked him warmly. Love came to me swiftly. At the first glance, when our eyes met, I knew that I had met the only one in the world that I could ever love. I loved him then with all my heart."

"Such a sudden love could not be a happy one; it could not end happily."

The girl smiled.

"In most instances that is the case," replied Hildegarde. "But in mine—mine—ah, Heaven is to be thanked—mine is to be a happy love, and will have a happy ending!"

Ah, if she had but known, if she had but guessed the thoughts that filled Miss Fernly's heart, she might have died then and there.

The sun set, and the dusk crept into the room; but it was a subject that Hildegarde loved, and she could have talked on forever about her lover.

"Mamma is quite late in returning," she said, at length. "She may not even come home to dinner."

This proved to be the case. Hildegarde and her aunt dined alone. She could not help but notice how her niece watched the clock with the brightest of eyes, the color deepening on her cheeks.

"I shall want to talk with this lover of yours alone," said Miss Fernly, a trifle hoarsely.

"Will you want to talk to him long, auntie?" asked her niece, wistfully.

"Yes, an hour, or perhaps two. I ordered my carriage at seven; it will be here as soon as he arrives. He will drive home with me, and can talk with me in the carriage."

Hildegarde was a little surprised at this announcement, but it did not occur to her to offer any objection.

"Ah, here he comes now!" cried Hildegarde, blushing furiously, all in a flutter of delight.

In a moment it seemed to her that her aunt had donned her hat and mantle. She was at the door as soon as the servant, dragging Hildegarde by the arm.

Eugene Mallard was surprised to see Hildegarde coming to the door to meet him. Then his eyes fell upon the tall, austere woman in the rear.

He felt intuitively that this must be the aunt of whom Hildegarde was always speaking. Even before he heard the hurried words of introduction, the young man held out his hand with a cordial smile.

"I am most pleased to meet you, Miss Fernly," he said. "I have heard Hildegarde speak of you so much that I feel as if I really knew and loved you already."

Was it only his fancy, or was the greeting of Hildegarde's aunt a trifle chilly?

"You are to accompany my aunt to her home," said his fiancÉe; adding, with a little twinkle in her eye: "Auntie has something to say to you."

For a moment he looked crestfallen; then he added, gallantly:

"I shall be most pleased. Pray command me, Miss Fernly."

Another moment, and they were seated in the carriage. He began to talk brightly to his companion; but to his great surprise, she answered him only in monosyllables.

"I am very much afraid she does not like me," he thought, with some consternation, and he redoubled his efforts to be agreeable. Any one who was related in any way to his darling Hildegarde was dear to him. He was always liked by women; he hoped from the depths of his heart that this lady would not form an aversion to him. But somehow he felt a cold, uncomfortable chill creeping over his heart. Was it a premonition of the evil that was so soon to come?