Up the narrow stair they hurried laughing, then down a passage, at the further end of which was a door.

"Gway forgot this," laughed the conductor; "this leads to the gwallery."

Apparently Gray had not forgotten it; for, for some unexplained purpose, it was fastened.

"Confound it!" exclaimed the speaker; "what can he have locked up all these doors for? Try that one on your left; that leads to his own apawtments."

"Locked, too," said Tremenhere, after trying it.

"I won't be bweaten!" cried Vellumy; "stwop a moment. I'll run down the pwassage, and gwet the keys out of the other doors; they'll most likely opwen this;" and back he ran. Tremenhere stood looking after him.

"Here," he called out, though under his breath, from the end of the passage; "here's a key—twy it;" and he flung it down the carpeted corridor. "I'll go look for mwore."

Tremenhere raised the key and applied it to the lock, which yielded at once; he entered unhesitatingly, with that freedom natural to a bachelor-house, and found himself in a small antechamber leading to Lord Randolph's own rooms; for an instant he stood irresolute. Which way turn? the picture-gallery was the object of his search. There were two doors in this room—one opposite the one by which he had entered; towards this he moved, and, gently turning the handle, found himself at the entrance of a small, but elegantly-furnished sitting-room. There were no lights, except from the fire, which threw a wide, cheerful blaze over all. A sofa was drawn close to it, and on this sat a lady, leaning half over the arm of it; her back was turned to the door, which had opened noiselessly. The light was not uncertain, and it threw its fullest blaze on that fair form—and that fair form was Minnie's!

Tremenhere stood still—a statue-like stillness. Life seemed fading away in horror. He felt drunk for a moment with suffering; then vision, thought—all cleared away into perfect sobriety, and he strode silently towards her. She started, and, dropping her book, uttered a cry of surprise, and, by an involuntary feeling of sudden alarm, shrunk back; then, seeing who it was, exclaimed in joy, if he could so have read it,—

"Oh, Miles, is that you? but you startled me, indeed, standing like a ghost, there. You look as if you did not expect me!"

"You here—you here!" he muttered with cold lips. "In these rooms! and why here at all?" And he held his hands before him to keep her back.

"Miles," she cried, still advancing; and though the face grew pale with some sudden fear of untimely birth, for it was so unexpected, yet the brow was clear and pure to all but a jealous man. "You know wherefore I am here; think—you must be mad!"

"Mad!" he echoed, staring wildly; "I must be mad, or dreaming!—you were locked in, and in these rooms."

"Where am I?" she cried, looking hurriedly round.

"Do you not know," he articulated beneath his breath, "or are you deceiving me? These are Lord Randolph Gray's private apartments."

"His!" she whispered, dropping on a seat; "I thought they were yours." Poor girl! her limbs tottered beneath her weight.

"You will drive me mad," he cried, seizing her trembling hands; "tell me, in Heaven's name—tell me how you came here, and why?"

"I came," she ejaculated half in surprise and half in fear, "because you sent for me; but why am I in these rooms, why not in yours?" She did not yet understand his suspicions; her fears arose from his strange excitement; she began to fear for his reason, thinking that he had sent for her.

"Woman!" he cried in agony, wringing her cold hands, "I never called you hither, and this you must know." She could not speak, but sat silently staring at him, her eyes distended with terror. "Speak—speak truth, if you dare—and tell me why you are here? and how? for I am nearly mad; do you not see it, woman? I conjure you, speak."

"Speak you!" she whispered, "and tell me your hidden meaning; you affright me with these spirit thoughts. Embody them, Miles; for I dare not believe my heart's fear."

"Speak them!" he exclaimed, "do they need speech? No! your guilty soul has uttered them to your terror-stricken frame; you have done, and now you shudder at your own act. Woman, I am doubly deceived, deceived when this day I took you to my loving heart, deceived when I was lured from my home that you might come hither in secret, but I will have revenge, where revenge may be taken." And casting her hands from him, which he had held grasped in his, he sprung towards the door, but like lightning she was before him, and placing her slight form, now nerved by resolution against it, she said, "Miles, I bore much this day patiently, for I had been guilty of concealment, though done for a worthy purpose; but now, that my soul is clear of any wilful sin against you, in the sight of Heaven, I demand that you should hear me."

"Speak," he said coldly folding his arms, "my revenge can wait."

"When," she articulated faintly, for the nerve of a moment had passed away—"when you left me to-day, an hour elapsed in thoughts of you, all you Miles, and joy—that deep joy which reconciliation brings. I was aroused from this dream of peace and rest, after my recent sorrow, by a messenger who came, he said, with a letter from you, which you had given him on starting, and this letter bade me at once come to Uplands to rejoin you, placing myself under the care of this messenger; you had a project in view for our mutual happiness, and my presence was necessary; so, dear Miles, I did not delay a moment,"—here the long restrained tears overflowed her eyes at the calling of that gentle word on her lip—"but fearlessly quitted home, knowing your judgment must be best in all things for my benefit, I could not err in following your guidance," her full eye looked all its love on him as she spoke.

"The letter," he said hoarsely, holding out a hand; he durst not take her, as he longed to do, to his heart, without this proof.

"Are you mad, or am I?" exclaimed the affrighted girl—his calmness awed her. "I have burned that letter, you know you bade me do so."

"By heavens!" he laughed wildly, "your cold-hearted assurance proves you the most consummate deceiver in the world. Girl—woman—demon! I never bade you come—I never wrote to you; and you know I did not, but your paramour knew me safe here; and in safety lodged you here also. By heaven it was a bold, daring game, worthy a better cause!" How often, in our bitterest or most serious moments, some passage either ludicrous, or irreverent, will cross our minds; through his flitted the words of Iago,—

"She did deceive her father, marrying you!"

"Yes," he continued, following the thought, "she deceived them all, cleverly and calmly; and what wonder I should follow?"

"Oh!" cried Minnie, dropping on her knees and looking upwards; "if spirits in pain may summon their kindred from heaven, oh! my own dear mother, look on your orphan, and pity her; pray for her, mother dear—pray for her!" and, covering her face with her hands, she wept bitterly. There is not in the regions of darkness a blacker demon than jealousy; it brands all—perverts all. There was a time when a tear from Minnie would have torn his soul. Now he looked on, almost exultingly; he thought she was sorrowing for another.

"Tremenhere, Tremenhere, open the door!" exclaimed Lord Randolph without, agitatedly—he heard a woman in tears. "For heaven's sake open the door, I will explain all!"

"Oh!" ejaculated Miles in a deep tone of satisfaction, yet it seemed as a groan, "here is something tangible to deal with." And without casting a look on his sobbing wife, who was bowed to earth, he hastily unfastened the door, which she had locked to prevent Miles's egress. "Come in, my lord," he said, perfectly calm, "and witness your day's worthy occupation! Look up, woman; here is one for whom you have cast me off! You, my lord, to-day, reign master of that fickle heart; and another—and another—and another, to-morrow!" and he strode contemptuously to the fireplace; but the hands were clenched in agony, which he would let no one witness.

"Come in, Vellumy!" cried Lord Randolph, whose voice trembled. He had created a storm which was mastering him.

"Let no one else in!" shouted Miles, turning round, all his forced calm giving way to intense passion. "Or, yes," he added, springing to the door and forcing it wide open from Vellumy's grasp, who strove to close it. "Come in, one, all—all—Burton too—come, glory, triumph over the proud man biting the bitter dust of betrayed trust."

"Are you mad?" exclaimed his host, pale with agitation. "Hear me, Tremenhere; I will explain all. Vellumy knows all—we will explain."

As they entered Minnie crept to her feet, and silently dropping on the sofa, sat watching all with a bewildered look of extreme terror; her shaken mind could not comprehend it.

"I am ready to hear all you may have to say, gentlemen," Miles said coldly, and sarcastically; "you will, however, permit me to hold my own opinions, and act upon them, as a man so much injured should."

"Tell him, my lord," whispered Minnie, who had silently crept to Lord Randolph's side, and grasped his arm—"tell him; for you must know how I came here, if, indeed, he is not mad, as I feared, but truly in ignorance."

Tremenhere stood as one doubtful whether to drag her from the arm she energetically grasped, or else kill her as she stood there; assuredly there was murder in the thought of that ungoverned, erring, but most devoted heart. He passed his hand over his brow, and dashed aside the cold drops of suspense and doubt.

"Pray, calm yourself, madam," said Lord Randolph, gently laying his hand on her trembling one; "I will explain all. Indeed, I never expected matters to take so biased a turn as this." She shrunk back from the touch of his hand. Her terror assumed so many forms, she scarcely knew where to find the end of that tangled web to unravel it. Vellumy looked even more alarmed than Lord Randolph; besides which, for the first time, he looked upon Minnie, and perhaps she never had appeared more beautiful than in that moment of anxiety and suffering. Instinctively he drew near to the girl, who sat like one awakened from a fearful dream, gazing wildly from one to the other, and incapable of the least exertion; her very arms hung nerveless, yet essaying to grasp the sofa for support.

Vellumy whispered gently, "Don't cwy; we will make it all wight—Gway has brought you here for that purpose." But she stared wildly at him, not hearing or understanding his meaning. Meanwhile, Lord Randolph, who really had done all with a good intention, gained energy from the uprightness of his conscience, and said calmly—

"Now hear me, Tremenhere; I may possibly offend you by my interference, but my object in bringing that most unfortunate, most injured girl here, has been——"

"Stop, my lord!" cried Miles, recovering his dignity, and soothing down his passion like a smouldering fire, more concentrated and intense in that apparent calm. "Though lost to all shame—though lost to me and my love, permit me still to claim a certain respect for the name she still bears—you forget that girl is my wife—Mrs. Tremenhere!"

"Your wife!" exclaimed both the other men in a voice. "Your wife! Good heavens! can this be?"

"True!" answered Miles, coldly. "I forgot this was unknown to you—that is, through me. I came hither to-day, to leave you no longer in ignorance of my exact position, as you had done my wife the honour of a visit."

"Merciful heavens!" cried Lord Randolph, agitatedly. "If this be indeed the case, I have been led into a grievous, but not irretrievable, error. Is this lady truly your wife?"

"As truly as a twice-told ceremony can make her," answered the other, with a cold, doubting smile. "Is your lordship indeed in ignorance of this fact? and does the responsibility of your crime alarm you? Fear not—it is not by law I shall seek redress when I demand it. There may be honour—if you know that thing more than by name—but there will be no laws to satisfy."

Lord Randolph was pacing the room, uncertain how to explain himself;—Vellumy looked thunderstruck.

"What!" continued Miles, in the same tone of bitterness; "did you think that was a frail creature, you were only making frailer still? that you were only deceiving a deceiver? giving to the giver his own again? I tell you, no; the creature was to me as the light of heaven—pure, sunny, gladdening all!—a gift of God to cheer me on my pilgrimage! Do you think I could look up to heaven, and bless it for its light, when I had condemned a soul like hers to crime and darkness?—to walk with me onward to the judgment-seat, and there kneel down and condemn me to hell, for the wrong I had done her? I tell you no, my lord; she was my own loved, virtuous wife—once!" And the stern man's voice trembled with emotion.

"And, by heavens, Tremenhere! that still for me, or any thought of mine. Give me your hand: forgive me—I have been led to wrong you deeply; I rejoice in being able once again to call you friend. I respect—I pity you; for some, to me unknown, unhappy circumstances, must have made you condemn a being like that to the shade of a suspicion. Mrs. Tremenhere," he added, approaching her, as Miles drew coldly back from the proffered hand, "forgive me the involuntary pain I have caused you, but plead for me to Tremenhere; he cannot resist you!"

Minnie stared like one idiotic; she was wounded too deeply; her native delicacy was sullied by these cruel suspicions.

"Tell Miles all," she articulated, in a low tone—"I cannot speak to him; tell him all—pray, do!" And her voice was choked with tears.

"You must hear me, Tremenhere!" he cried.

"Must!" laughed the other incredulously. "May I ask is this an impromptu, or a part of a well-arranged whole? I ask a simple question—favour me with a simple reply, my lord. How came Mrs. Tremenhere in this apartment, where I by accident found her? Words will not do—I ask proofs!"

"Will not my pledged and sacred honour suffice?"

"Some men deem it a duty, where a lady's reputation is concerned, to clear her from suspicion at any price."

"By heavens! you are blunt, sir," answered Lord Randolph haughtily; "and but that a well-meant act of mine, has caused this scene—this mistake—I should leave you to seek your remedy where and how you would; but I am resolved to state all, and then leave you to be just, if just you can be in your present state."

He then proceeded to relate the scheme arranged between Vellumy and himself, believing Minnie wronged by Tremenhere—a scheme to bring her down, and call upon Miles's better feelings to do her justice. What she had told her husband was perfectly true. When Vellumy entered the club, on their way to the railroad, it was to despatch a trusty person, to whom the letter had been confided, which lured Minnie unsuspecting from home. We have seen how Vellumy's cab had been in waiting with its master, to secure the positive departure of Miles. Vellumy had a great talent—(for one it is, though dangerous in the extreme)—an extraordinary power of copying handwriting. He wrote a letter so exactly like Miles's, that even Minnie was deceived. It ran thus (they were ignorant of her name, it will be remembered)—

"Dearest Love—I have just received a letter at my club, on my way to the station, which contains something of so much importance to our future welfare, that I earnestly desire you should follow me to Uplands. Place yourself unfearing under the care of the trusty bearer, and he will bring you safe to your

"Miles.

"Burn this; I will explain all when we meet."

This letter might have misled a more experienced person than poor Minnie; what could she suspect? Miles's word was law, unquestioned; without hesitating one moment, she quitted home with the messenger, who was none other than Lord Randolph's valet, one he could securely confide in. The plan for Tremenhere to discover her, was all arranged beforehand; but, most unfortunately, the well-intentioned plotters were quite ignorant of Miles's jealous disposition, as also of the scene of that morning on his lordship's account; and, to crown all, there was no letter forthcoming in proof. Vellumy, by the latter's desire, quitted the room to keep the guests below in good temper; he was, like his friend, a well-meaning man, but not a gifted one, by wisdom. Of all the persons below, he selected Burton for his confident, to whom he might unburthen his overcharged bosom. Secrets were of leaden weight with him. This man listened with avidity and delight to the strange tale, but made no like confidence himself. What he knew about it, remained in his own breast; but he, who before chid his fate for bringing him in contact with his cousin, now rejoiced in it: these revelations raised a host of ideas in his mind, which he promised himself not to lose sight of.

All these circumstances, as we have related them, were laid before Tremenhere, and though he allowed himself at last to be convinced of Minnie's truth, yet there was a power within him stronger than his own will. It was an offspring of nature—wild and ungovernable jealousy: it ran like a muddy current through every vein, and though he took Minnie once again in love and reconciliation to his heart, and shook Lord Randolph's hand in sincerity of gratitude for the manly wish which prompted this ill-advised act of kindness to Minnie, still the demon shook his heart when he saw her, in the warmth of her generous, guileless heart, shake Lord Randolph gratefully by the hand, and, looking up in his face, bid "Heaven bless him;" for he felt no man could forget that face, that look, and he dreaded lest what was not, might be engendered by that beauty and grace of nature, which had driven even his stern heart almost to madness; and the restless demon whispered, "I would you had seen the letter," but letter, Vellumy, Burton, Lord Randolph—all, were forgotten and forgiven, when he held his Minnie once again to his heart, and their host descended to make some plausible excuse for his non-appearance again.

Early next morning he and Minnie returned to town, and Burton, too, quitted Uplands.

"That fool Dalby made a confounded mistake," said Lord Randolph to his crony, Vellumy, next day; "but it has all turned out most fortunately. What an exquisite creature Mrs. Tremenhere is! Ten thousand times handsomer even than her cousin. Lady Dora," (for Miles had related all, to leave no further doubt or suspicion about Minnie.)

"Bwootiful!" responded Vellumy, "and such a sweet lwoving woman! I hope Twemenhere will tweat her well, he's so dweucedly jealous!"

And thus terminated a good intention. If it went where such too often are said to go, it left its germ in earth to bud and blossom.