Marie was like stone now, and she remained motionless, while Clotilde lay back in her lounge and continued her shameless avowals. "I wanted to spite you a little, darling, in a kindly sort of way, and I could not have behaved better to you than to help you do your duty to our dear aunts and win a rich husband and a title." "Is this talk for some purpose?" said Marie at last, angrily. "Yes, my dear, of course it is; but you must be very smooth-faced and quiet now, and not let the gentlemen see that we have been talking about our old beaux. But seriously, Rie, you never thought I should sit down quietly and let you carry off Marcus Glen?" Marie began to tremble, for a horrible suspicion had assailed her, one which moment by moment grew more strong; while, seeing the effect of her words, Clotilde went on with malicious glee: "It would not do at any cost, my dear, so I carried off poor stupid Marcus that night." "This was your doing, Clotilde," said Marie at last, panting as if for breath. "To be sure it was. Poor old fellow! He behaved very nicely by holding his tongue and taking all the blame, when he was as innocent as a lamb." "Innocent!" exclaimed Marie involuntarily. "To be sure he was, my dear. Why, he was as fond of you as could be, only I led him into that scrape so that he would not be able--" Clotilde got no farther, for even she was startled at the effect of her words upon her sister, who sprang from her seat and caught her by the hands. "Clotilde!" she exclaimed hoarsely, "this is all a lie! Tell me it is all a lie, and I will forgive you." "Do as you like, only don't squeeze diamond rings into my fingers. All true enough: Marcus held his tongue, as I tell you, like a lamb, to save my credit. What fools men are!" "Then--then," wailed Marie, "he was true?" "Why, my sentimental sister! You ought to bless me instead of looking like that." For a moment, though, in spite of her forced mirth, Clotilde shrank from her sister's wild gaze, but only to put on an air of bravado as she exclaimed: "There, Rie, I made up my mind to serve you out, and I did." Marie drew away from her, gazing in her false, handsome face the while, and sank back in the nearest chair, holding her hands pressed against her side as if she were in terrible pain, while her face worked as a convulsive sob escaped from her breast. "What does it matter now? You are looking as if--as if--Rie! Here, take my salts." "Keep back, woman--don't touch me!" cried Marie, in a low voice. "Sister? No, you must be a demon, and--oh! God help me! God help me!" she wailed; "what have I done?" Clotilde rushed at her with an imperious "Hush!" but her sister avoided her grasp, and fled to the bell, rang it furiously, and startled Clotilde into silence, as a servant hurried up.