night after night, wondering when she would get the courage to tell the truth. Then, her grandmother came, and frightened her still more. And George Drummond

came and fell in love with her, which made a complication which was beyond her

powers to solve.

D'Arcy behaved very well. He began to wish that the marriage should be known to his family, but she begged him, for a time, to say nothing about it, unless-certain contingencies should occur. He agreed to that; but in concealed marriages things are apt to be misunderstood by those not in the possession of the real facts.

George Drummond and D'Arcy had made a sort of friendship together. George had been the oldest lodger in the house, and, during the interregnum between Mrs. Morsey and Mrs. Arnaud, had naturally made ac

quaintance with him, as a newly arrived lodger. George had had no special information from his father about Mrs. Arnaud; such as he had he gave to D'Arcy. There was no need for two young men to talk about family affairs in any way. They neither of them had a point d'appui, they simply made friends. Mrs. Arnaud came, and they talked of her. Heloise came, Madame came, Lord Festiniog came and Barri. George Drummond and D'Arcy talked over them all in the most free and easy manner. More freely possibly after the advance of Madame sent sent them upstairs into Mrs. Arnaud's rooms, where George Drummond was free to meet Heloise, and D'Arcy was free to meet his wife.

George Drummond had determined for some little time to ask D'Arcy about his love for Heloise. He had delayed doing so

because he was afraid. He saw that they admired one another.

Yet it would be better surely to speak to him about it. He resolved to do so, and at ten o'clock one night he came down to D'Arcy's rooms, to speak about the matter.

D'Arcy was not in his sitting-room, but the door of his bedroom was open. There were two people talking and laughing there, one of them was D'Arcy, the other Heloise. D'Arcy was sitting in a chair, and Heloise was standing behind him, brushing his hair. George slid out of the room without making a sound.

Life was now of no value to him. Look at it for yourself, reader; conceive how unutterably horrible it would be in your own case, and think well of him. In some men such a thing would have produced brutality, ferocity in him it only produced heroism;

and, we think, heroism of the highest kind.

With D'Arcy and Heloise we will trouble you very little. We do not think that there is anything very much to trouble about with them. We only ask you to go forward with George Drummond.

CHAPTER XVII.

GEORGE DRUMMOND TAKES CHARGE OF BARRI.

ALL things, as the Scotch say, seemed to be put past him. He had never loved any woman but Heloise, and she-it was not to be borne, and yet it must be. That that frank, beautiful creature should be unfit to be named, was horrible. Yet, she was talking familiarly to his friend in his friend's bedroom. He had seen it with his own eyes; he saw it through the open door, against his will. She was in his bedroom, brushing his hair, late at night. manners might be free, but never so free as

French

that. To us, who know the truth, the matter is harmless enough, but to him it was unbearable.