"I'm ready to own to you," she said, "that I was very much annoyed about that note. I knew nothing about it till I found Miss Coppock reading it this morning before she started. I sent it back to Lord Charles at once; I thought it would be the best way to stop such boyish folly; but, Maurice, I meant to tell you this myself; surely there was no need for me to confess to Miss Coppock when she took upon herself to accuse me of all sorts of things. I dare say I was impulsive and foolish-I know I felt very angry, but the woman disgusted me by her low suspicions; you can't think what dreadful things she said, and I told her she must go. Her conduct grew outrageous then, such falsehoods I never listened to

Mr. Downes' face had cleared, but he looked uneasy still.

"Do you care to hear what else she said?" and as he looked at his wife, Miss Coppock's words seemed so wild and improbable that he felt ashamed to repeat them.

Patty put her hand on his arm.

"I dare say you think, Maurice, because I've none of the wheedling ways of some women about me, that I don't care for you. I never can show my feelings. Why, when I saw that woman with you-strong as I felt in my own innocence-I trembled, yes indeed, I did tremble after her threats. Who have I to stand up for me in the world but you? There's the French schoolmistress, of course, and my fosterfather; but now old Mr. Parkins is dead, I have no one creditable witness to bring forward. Ah, Maurice, I little thought I should ever want justifying to you."

Her eyes were dry now, but she clasped her hands in mute appeal, and it seemed to her husband there was an unutterable sweetness in those soft heavylidded eyes.

He hesitated between his wish to believe his wife and a haunting memory of Miss Coppock's words. He had stood before Patty all this while-now he left her, and walked to the window.

A voiture was driving into the court

yard of the Croix d'Or; but Mr. Downes had not remarked it till one of its occupants stepped on to the round pavingstones of the yard. It was Miss Coppock. Mr. Downes started back. "Here again!" he said, and a cold chill of unbelief came over him.

Patty was beside him instantly. She looked down into the court-yard, and her eyes met those of Patience.

Mrs. Downes saw a determination fully equal to her own-and then she saw Nuna.

"Maurice!" she grasped his arm so convulsively that he looked at her in alarm-"keep that woman Patience away from me; I can't tell you how I feel now that I know she has tried

to poison you against me. Let her say what she will, falsehood can harm no one, only keep her away from me; you don't know who she has brought with her; that's Mr. Whitmore's dear little wife-bring her to me, dear, at once; I have a message to her from her husband."

Mr. Downes was appeased.

Patty could not have appealed more effectually to her husband. His wife's manner towards the artist had often annoyed him at the outset of the journey; it was like a revelation to guess now that those long talks had been about Mr. Whitmore's wife-a wife too, who, from the glimpses he had caught of her, seemed attractive enough for any husband.

He kissed Patty.

"I'll keep Miss Coppock away, and send Mrs. Whitmore to you here."

CHAPTER LXVI.

66 ONLY AN OLD LOVE-LETTER." MR. DOWNES met Nuna on the stairs. "I believe you are Mrs. Whitmore. My wife has a message to you from your husband."

Nuna forgot Patty's letter, her conduct and all. She almost ran along the gallery till she reached the door to which Mr. Downes pointed.

Patty meantime had a sharp, brief

struggle. She had seen this trial far off, and now it had really come.

"I can't dare them both," she said, "I'm too hemmed in. I'd rather die than knock under to Patience; surely I can coax this weak, simple girl to stand by me if I only show her she needn't be jealous. She is a lady, simpleton as she is."

Nuna went straight up to Patty, her eyes full of question.

"You have a message for me from my husband. Do you know where he is?"

For just an instant the selfish heart stirred with pity, and then self swept away every feeling but intense desire for help. She looked at Nuna with keen, searching eyes.

"Mr. Downes misunderstood me. I have something to say about your husband, but I can only guess where he is. We will help you to find him, you may be sure we will, but I want you to help me first, Mrs. Whitmore."

A look of pitiful distress came into Nuna's face; it seemed as if she must break down; but she strove hard not to yield up her courage.

66

First," said Patty, and a bright flush of real shame tinged her cheeks, "I can tell you what no one else can. You may quite trust your husband. I have tried him on this journey, and I don't believe a man would have been so

indifferent if he had not dearly loved his wife."

She was forced to droop her eyes under Nuna's indignant glance.

You're annoyed; well, you don't understand me; you don't seem to see how much it costs a vain woman like me to own that she can't charm a man who did admire her once."

Again Nuna's face warned her.

"What I want to know is whether you will forgive me for trying to make your husband flirt, or whether you mean to bear me a grudge for it?"

Nuna's resentment faded; it seemed to her that only Patty Westropp could so speak, and she excused her, she held out her hand, and Patty kept it in a soft warm clasp.

"Thank you, I'm in great, dreadful trouble, and only you can help me. Hush! what's that?" Such a change came in her face that Nuna was startled. The lovely colour faded. Patty grew whiter every moment, her lips were trembling, and her eyes had a scared terror in them.

"Sit down," said Nuna; she thought Mrs. Downes would faint where she stood.

"No." Patty shook her head. "Don't be frightened, I haven't got feeling enough to faint." She laughed at the look of distress in Nuna's face. "You needn't be sorry for me, either. I don't want pity, I hate it, and I'm sure women get along much easier if they haven't too much heart. I dare say you suffer for everyone's troubles as much as for your own. Well, I don't want you to be sorry for me, only help me. I don't profess to care for any one except myself. I know that woman Patience has been telling you all sorts of lies. Do you know why she brought you here?" She looked keenly into the agitated face before her. "No, of course you don't, you only came to see your husband." There was a touch of scorn in her voice, for Nuna's un-' consciousness. "Miss Coppock brought you here to tell Mr. Downes all about me. She wants him to know I was Patty Westropp, her apprentice, a village girl at Ashton, everything-I saw it in her face just now. Mrs. Whitmore," Patty's voice grew passionate,

.

when you've worn out a gown you throw it aside don't you, you don't keep it by you for ever? That's what I've done. I've done with the old life, why should I tease my husband with it? You'll stand by me, won't you? you'll keep silent about your knowledge of me, you will I know. I'm sure you will."

Patty had meant to speak quite differently, to be calm and reasonable, and to treat of this as a mere matter of worldly wisdom; but nervous terror and excitement conquered, she took Nuna's hand in both hers, and pressed is, while her face was full of convulsive agitation.

2

Nuna

"I can't tell a falsehood." spoke hesitatingly, and Patty's courage rose. It seemed to her, her strong will must conquer this timid, irresolute nature.

"I've not told you all yet. My husband's a proud man, he thinks low birth and vulgarity as bad as murder and stealing. He thinks I have always been Miss Latimer, a gentleman's child, brought up abroad. If he finds out he has been deceived he'll never forgive me, he'll cast me off. Look here, Mrs. Whitmore," she went on, vehemently, "I'm not a good woman like you, I find no comfort in church and prayers as you do; if my husband casts me off I can't be left alone in the world, I must go to some one else; I can't live without society and amusement, I must be worshipped in one way or another."

"Oh, hush! pray don't think of anything so dreadful."

Nuna laid her hand on Patty's arm, but Patty broke from her passionately.

"It's all very well for you to call it dreadful, but if I do it, remember you will have driven me to it, Nuna Beaufort-yes, you only, you are driving me to shame and destruction, and you're doing it to revenge yourself on me because you think I tried to steal your husband's love from you, and you set up for being good and religious! If I had got him away from you you would have had more right; but when I tell you I failed, what's all your goodness worth? You are as bad as I am after all."

very dearly, and he will forgive you. Love will forgive everything." She looked pleadingly at Patty. A dark sullen look came over the beautiful face.

"You say that because you love and you could forgive, if I could love my husband I might have a chance of his forgiving me. But I don't love himI can't, I can't; I almost despise him. Could you be forgiven by a man you despise a man who you feel you can do as you like with? I can only love what I fear I can't be forgiven-taken into favour like a disgraced servant-by a man I've no respect for. Why, I should be watched at every turn, and never believed again. I know my husbandhe would be ashamed of me for the rest of his life and just because he'd never have had the wit to find it out for himself, once he knows it, he'll be finding out lowness and vulgar ways in all I do and all I say. I'd rather hang myself up to that pole, Mrs. Whitmore," she pointed to the bed-"than live with him on those terms. No, it's your doing now. Take your choice: I won't speak again till you've made it-whether I'm to go on Mrs. Downes to the end, or whether I'm to go off in an hour's time with some one else."

Nuna stood shocked and silent. Her shrinking from Patty was stronger than ever, and yet a spring of loving compassion was rising up in her heart for this wretched despairing woman.

Patty's eyes were devouring in their impatient expression, but Nuna still stood silent.

"If your husband questions me I must tell the truth," she said at last; "but surely I need not see Mr. Downes again. I tell you that your only chance for real happiness lies in openness to him. Oh, Mrs. Downes, what is it: just a little pain and humiliation soon over, and all that painful, shameful load of concealment gone for ever. Why,"

her large dark eyes grew so earnest that Patty quailed before them-" you can't die deceiving your husband. You could not-you must tell him: then why not give yourself happiness now? Ah, you don't know what happiness it is to

love your husband! it is much happier to love than to be loved oneself." She had got Patty's hand in both her own.

Mr. Downes came in abruptly: he heard Nuna's last words, and he looked at her he glanced on to his wife, but she drooped her head, sullenly silent.

"Mrs. Whitmore "there was more sorrow than anger in his voice-"did you ever know Mrs. Downes as a girl called Patty Westropp ?"

Neither of them saw Patty as she stood blanched, shaking with terror. Nuna looked frankly at Mr. Downes.

"If I did, what of it? I knew no harm of her-nothing that a man need be ashamed of in his wife and how hard she must have striven to fit herself to be your wife. I am sure she is bitterly sorry for having kept her name from you the concealment has brought its own punishment. Oh, Mr. Downes, we all make great mistakes in our lives: tell her you forgive her." There was almost a fervour of earnestness in Nuna's voice. She turned again to Patty, put her arm round her, and kissed her.

But Patty stood sullen, regardless of either Nuna or her husband.

Mr. Downes did not answer: he had kept stern and still while Nuna spoke: now he walked up and down the room with his hands behind him, his eyes bent on the ground. The silence was unbroken the two women stood still while he walked up and down: Nuna wondered what would be the end.

He stopped short at last, and spoke to Nuna.

"Mrs. Whitmore, you are a noble woman you have taught me a lesson to-day. If all I've been told is true, you have as much to forgive my wife as I have." Then he turned with a look of sudden appeal to Patty.

"Elinor, why don't you speak-why don't you make it easier for both of us? I am ready to forgive you if you will ask me in return I ask you to try to love me."

"I don't want to be forgiven," she said haughtily.

The door was quietly opened, but

they were all too overwrought to notice it then.

"Don't harden yourself," he said. He looked at Nuna: he seemed to find hope and counsel too in those deep trusting eyes. "Elinor, why not trust me? Do you suppose I want to keep you with me except to make your life a happy one? I don't ask for any words: just give me your hand, and I will take the rest on trust."

Even then she hesitated; but Nuna gently took the trembling, clammy fingers, and drew them towards her husband's hand.

The door shut suddenly-it seemed to break the spell that had held them. "You do not want me any more?" Nuna looked at Mr. Downes. "I am on my way to my husband."

"You will never find him by yourself." He put his hand to his head and thought. thought. "You must let me send my courier with you-indeed you must: he knows where the village is to which your husband was going when he left us" then, seeing her unwillingness, he whispered, "Surely after what you have done for me to-day you will let me help you if I can; you don't know how much you have helped me."

To his worldly notions it seemed marvellous that Nuna could so easily forgive his wife.

A thought came to Nuna while he spoke.

"Shall I take Miss Coppock with me, Mr. Downes? Your wife ought not to see her again."

Mr. Downes pressed her hand. "Yes, a good plan. Thank you very much. I'll find her for you."

Mr. Downes went to look, but Patience was no longer in the courtyard: the garçon was coming downstairs. "Where is the English lady?" said Mr. Downes.

The man looked surprised.

"She followed you up-stairs, Monsieur. I thought she was with you."

Mr. Downes was very angry with Patience Coppock: just then he would like to have inflicted any punishment on her.

"Some one went up to the second story just now," said the garçon, "it is possible to have been Mademoiselle. No. 7 is the room of Mademoiselle; shall I tell her that Monsieur is waiting?"

"No." Mr. Downes gave his instructions to the courier about Nuna, and then hurried upstairs; he thought he should save time by going himself to Miss Coppock; he was very unhappy, it seemed to him that his wife was in a dangerous reckless temper; he did not want to lose sight of her till she softened.

No. 7 stood at the end of the gallery; he knocked sharply, but there was no

answer.

"I have no time for ceremony," he said angrily; he opened the door and went in.

Miss Coppock was lying on her bed. "Miss Coppock, I"-but the words stopped, and he stood still paralyzed.

An awful Presence filled the room, and drew his eyes to the upturned face lying there so dreadful in its stillness.

At first this Presence filled his eyes, his mind, so that he could not grasp objects distinctly, and then he saw a phial still held in one lifeless hand close beside this hand was a paper, it looked like a letter.

;

Mr. Downes made a great effort to overcome his horror, he stretched out his hand and took this letter from the bed.

It was an old letter, soiled and much worn by folding and refolding; it was written in a boyish crabbed hand-in it was a lock of chestnut hair.

"My darling Patience," was at the top. "Only an old love-letter;-poor creature," and then he looked on to the signature-" Maurice Downes."

"Oh, my God!" he fell on his knees, his head nearly touching the dead woman. Who shall describe the utter horror and confusion of thought that came upon him in those awful moments, while he knelt beside the dead body of his old love?

All the bitter upbraidings he had given way to during these last weeks, while he had watched the smiles and looks he most coveted denied to himself

and lavished on others, seemed to fall on his heart like stripes; punishment, dealt justly to him in retribution.

He rose feebly from his knees and staggered to a chair. Clearly, as before the mental sight of one drowning, was the memory of that unexpected return to his father's house and his meeting with Patience Clayton-he shuddered as her fresh young beauty came in one vivid glance; and then more slowly, because harder to the belief of the world-hardened conscience, came back those hours of boyish love, of mornings spent in a sort of hungering longing and unrest till he was sure of finding her alone in her little school-room.

How vehemently he had resented his stepmother's conduct; he knew without looking at it again, that the crumpled. letter, so carefully treasured, was full of passionate love and trust; in it he had vowed to be always true to Patience.

Why was all this so terribly real and present now, and why had it all been so vague and far off and lost out of memory, when he saw her again a friendless girl in London? For a moment it seemed to Maurice Downes, in the terrible remorse that makes any effort, however unreal, possible and needful, that if he had married the girl whose love he had won, it would have been just and righteous. She loved him truly; had any woman ever loved him so well, with so little requital?

And then came back those words spoken to him in the court-yard so short a while ago-words which he had despised her for uttering, because he disbelieved in them. "There are reasons why I'd still do much for you." And she, with all her wrongs, despised, neglected, had loved him to the endhad lived beside him all these months and seen his love lavished on Patty.

A feeling of deep indignation rose against his wife.

"She must hear it all. If I confess to her, it may bend her pride."

He got up and forced himself to take one long, fixed look at the poor pale face; then he went downstairs slowly and heavily to the room where he had left Patty.