There was a pause, for it cost Marie a bitter struggle to utter that one word with a smile, but she spoke it bravely at last, and there was a sense of relief after it was said:

"Quite," Then, after another pause: "Lord Henry is all that is tender and good to me; and now, Ruthy, about yourself?"

"Oh, I am only too glad to come and see you sometimes!"

"Yes; but about this little heart. Ruthy, will you confide in me?"

Marie drew the trembling girl closer to her side, and tried to gaze in her face, but it was averted.

"Yes," she whispered; "of course I will."

"Then tell me this--frankly: you love Marcus Glen?"

The pained aspect came back into Marie's face, and her brow was rugged, as she waited for Ruth's answer.

"I don't know," said Ruth at last.

"You don't know? Is this your confidence?"

"Oh, don't speak angrily to me!" cried Ruth pa.s.sionately. "I will keep nothing from you, Marie. Indeed, indeed I do not know, only that I have prayed, so hard, so very hard, that I might not love him."

"Prayed that you might not love him?" said Marie, smiling.

"Yes; for I felt that it would be so treacherous, and that it would cause pain to all--to you--to me. Oh, why do you ask me this?"

"Hush! you are growing agitated, and I want to talk to you quietly, and for your good. Suppose it had ceased to be treacherous to think of Captain Glen--suppose he could be brought to love you, and were to ask you to be his wife: what would you say then?"

A servant entered and announced Mr Paul Montaigne; and, blandly calm and smiling, that gentleman entered the room.

It was a surprise for both, and Ruth's heart began to beat strangely fast as, in his customary paternal way, Montaigne greeted each in turn.

She recalled that evening when their visitor had talked with her in the drawing-room, but her dread had increased each time they met, and it was all she could do to keep from shrinking from him and showing her aversion.

But little was said more than that Montaigne told them he was in town on business, and that he had thought he would call, before Lord Henry joined them, greeting Montaigne very warmly, and ending, to Ruth's horror, by asking him to dine with them next day, and to spend an hour with them whenever he could spare the time.

The rest of that particular evening was pa.s.sed in quite a political discussion between Lord Henry and his guest, Montaigne taking so little notice of Ruth that her heart grew more at rest; but there was a something in his look as he said good-night, something in the pressure of his hand, that made her think this man loved her, and as she felt for the moment that it might be possible for him to ask her aunts to give her to him as his wife, the poor girl turned cold, and gladly went off shivering to her sleep-forsaken bed.

Ruth had not been with her long when Marie received the old-fashioned communication of wedding cards; the notice in the paper of the marriage of Arthur Litton, Esq., of Duke Street, Saint James's, to Lady Anna Maria Morton, of the private apartments, Hampton Court Palace, having escaped her eye.

The young couple took a house in Bryanston Square, which Lady Littletown said was charmingly furnished; visits followed, at one of which an unexpected encounter took place.

Lady Anna Maria was at home, the servant said in answer to the queries, and Marie and Ruth descended from the carriage, and were shown up to the drawing-room, where, seated with his back to the light, talking to the bride, was Glen, in company with d.i.c.k Millet.

Marie felt as if all the blood in her body had rushed to her head, and the room seemed to swim round, but she mastered her emotion, and after receiving Lady Anna Maria's greeting, she turned with quiet self-possession to where Glen stood, cold and stern, waiting to take leave, and calmly offered him her hand.

"I am glad to see you again, Captain Glen," she said gravely; and Marcus started with astonishment, eagerly catching the extended hand, and hardly able to stammer out some words of greeting.

Then a bitter look crossed his face, and he turned from Marie coldly, and began, with a vivid recollection of the past, to talk to Ruth, while Marie made d.i.c.k colour with pleasure as she shook hands, and then sat and chatted with him with all the warmth of an old friend.

But the ice was broken, and that one meeting led to others, Lady Anna Maria, with all the eagerness of a young bride, lending herself to what was evidently in her eyes the making up of a match between Ruth, who was so charming and fresh and sweet, and Captain Glen.

The visits to Bryanston Square were not frequent, but, to her horror, Ruth noted that Glen was always there as if he expected to meet Marie; and though he was kindness itself and full of attention, his quiet deference and low-spoken words were for Marie alone.

Mr Arthur Litton was very rarely there, so that Lady Anna Maria was their sole entertainer, and this little lady had, after so many years of maidenhood, developed in her married life quite a girlish skittishness which resulted in a very silly flirtation with little d.i.c.k, who was most constant in his attentions, and seemed to ignore her ladyship's excessively thin figure.

"I believe, d.i.c.k, you'd flirt with a mop if it was stuck in a petticoat," said Glen to him one day on their way to Bryanston Square.

"What's it all for--practice?"

"I don't ask you why you flirt with married ladies," said d.i.c.k sharply.

Glen started, and looked grave. And at that time a little friendly counsel might have turned him aside, for he thought a good deal of quiet, grave Lord Henry. But he frowned, and said angrily, "He is no friend of mine. He came between us. Why should I study him?"

He closed his eyes then fast to the risk and danger, giving himself up to his revived pa.s.sion, and went on gliding slowly down the slope towards the precipice that threatened both.

On the other side, Ruth was pa.s.sing through a strange course of education. At first, in her innocency, she could hardly believe it possible, but more and more the fact dawned upon her that a kind of self-deception was going on with Marie, who apparently believed that she was furthering Ruth's happiness, while she was yielding to the delight of being once more in company with Glen, listening to his voice, living a delicious, dreamy existence, of whose danger she seemed to be unaware.

Volume 3, Chapter X.

A DANGEROUS ENEMY.

Much as Ruth was in Marie's confidence, and sisterly as their intercourse had become, there were points now upon which each feared to touch.

Of late Glen's name had ceased to be mentioned, and Ruth's feelings towards Marie were a strange intermingling of love, jealousy, and fear.

Ruth was alone one day in the drawing-room, having stayed at home on account of a slight headache, while Marie had gone to make a few calls after setting down Lord Henry at his club.

Ruth had taken up a book, but though she went through page after page, she had not the slightest recollection of what she had been reading, her thoughts having wandered away to Marcus Glen and Marie.

"I ought to have gone with her," she thought; and then she began to tremble as she felt a kind of dread overcoming her.

"It is terrible," she thought; "I cannot bear it. He does not care for me, and I cannot save him; but," she cried, setting her teeth, "I will not leave her again, and I will speak to her at once."

She hesitated for a moment, as if in alarm at the determination she had made, and then moved towards the door.

"I will go on there at once; she may be there. If she is not, Marcus Glen will be, and I will appeal to him, for I cannot bear this agony."

It was a good resolve, one which she would have carried out; but just then she recoiled, and her heart began to beat painfully, while the blood forsook her cheeks.

Mr Montaigne had softly closed the door behind him, and was advancing towards her, with a smile upon his lip, and a peculiar look in his eyes, which made her tremble.

"What!" he said, "alone? This is an unexpected pleasure."

"He knew I was alone," thought Ruth, "and that is why he has come."

He advanced towards her, and in spite of her determination to be firm, she took a step or two backwards before she held out her hand, and said with tolerable firmness:

"Lady Henry has gone out in the carriage."

"And will not be back just yet," he said with a smile. "Ah, well, it does not matter."