"I wonder whether she thinks him so guilty as she did," mused Ruth; and these musings were continued one evening after dinner, when she was seated at work in Lord Henry's drawing-room, with Marie, who was very pale, close at hand; Lord Henry being, according to custom, seated over his wine--a pleasant, old-fashioned fiction, wherein a decanter of excellent old port was placed before him every evening, of which he drank one glass only, and then went to sleep till the butler announced tea. Just in the midst of her thoughts respecting Marcus Glen, and as if some electric mental chord of sympathy existed between them, Marie said, in a quiet, rather forced voice: "Have you seen Captain Glen lately, Ruthy?" It cost Marie a tremendous effort to say those words calmly. And then that terrible pang of jealousy shot through her breast once more as she saw the crimson blood flush into Ruth's cheeks and rise above her brows. Poor Ruth faltered, and looked as guilty as if she had been discovered in some offence, as she replied: "Yes, only a few days ago. He spoke to us in the Gardens. I was walking with my aunts." Marie felt relieved. He could not have said much to Ruth if her aunts were by, and she sighed with content, but only to take herself angrily to task once more, and strive to spur herself onward to her duty. It was in this disposition, then, that she said quietly: "I thought it right to say to you, Ruthy, that I think you were correct about--about Captain Glen." "That he was not guilty, as you imagined?" cried Ruth eagerly. Marie bowed her head, and she felt a strange constriction of the heart on seeing the bright animation in Ruth's countenance--a suggestion of the pain that she was in future to feel; but she mastered her emotion, and Ruth went on: "I am so glad, you cannot think!" she said. "Why?" said Marie, in a cold, hard voice, which made Ruth colour highly; but she spoke out. "Because it seemed so cruel to one who always was kind and chivalrous and--" She stopped short with a curiously puzzled look gathering upon her brow, for it now occurred to her that Marie must be angry with herself for casting off Marcus Glen, but she could not read it in her eyes, while the puzzled look deepened as Marie said quietly: "I am very glad, Ruthy--very glad to feel that I was not mistaken in him, and that he is indeed the true gentleman we believed." Ruth took a stool and placed it at Marie's feet, seating herself there and clinging to her hand, while her cousin softly stroked her hair, vowing to herself the while that if Ruth cared for Marcus Glen, no jealous pang should hinder her from aiding in bringing them together, and no act of hers should be such as would be traitorous to Lord Henry, her confiding husband. "Why do you look at me so strangely, Ruthy?" said Marie at last. "I was thinking." "Thinking what?" "Don't ask me, Marie," said Ruth in a troubled tone.