At about the same time that John Huish was pondering over his state in connection with his love affairs, Renee Morrison called in her carriage for her sister, bore her off to where she thought they could be alone, and sent the carriage back. The place chosen was the Park, which, though pretty well thronged with people, seemed to them solitary, as they strolled across toward the Row. Gertrude was very silent, for she felt that Renee had something important to say; but the minutes sped on, and their scattered remarks had been of the most commonplace character, and at last, as she glanced sideways, Gertrude saw that if her sister were to confide her troubles and be the recipient of those effervescing in her own breast she herself must speak. "You do not confide in me, Renee dear," she said tenderly, as they took a couple of chairs beneath one of the spreading trees. "Why do you not always make me more your confidant? One feels as if one could talk out here in the park, where there are no walls to listen. Come, dear, why do you not tell me all?" "Because I feel that my husband's secrets are in my keeping, and that I should be doing wrong to speak of what he does." "Not wrong in confiding in me, Renee. You are not happy. Oh, Ren, Ren, why did you consent? Trouble, and so soon!" "Don't talk to me like that, now, Gerty," cried Renee in a low, passionate voice, "because it was mamma's will that we should marry well and have establishments, and satisfy her pride. Sometimes I think it would have been better if I had never been born." "Oh, Ren, Ren," her sister whispered, pressing her hand. "But Frank--he is kind to you?" "Yes," said Renee sadly; "he is never angry with me." "But I mean kind and loving and attentive, as your husband should be?" said Gertrude softly. Renee looked at her with a sad, heavy look, and now that the first confidence had been made, her heart was open to her sister. "Gertrude," she whispered to her, "he never loved me!" "Oh, Ren dear, think what you are saying!" "I do think, dear, and I say it once more. He never loved me." "But, Renee, you have been kind and loving to him." "Yes, as tender as a woman could be to the man she had sworn to love; but he does not care for me, and I am haunted." "Haunted, Renee?" "Yes; hush! Here is Major Malpas." Gertrude glanced in the direction taken by her sister's eyes, and her heart seemed to be compressed as by a cold hand, as she turned indignantly to her sister. "Renee!" she said, in a horrified whisper, "oh, do not say you care for him still!" "Gertrude!" cried Renee, catching her hand, "how dare you say that! I hate--I detest him! I thought him a gentleman once, and I did love him; but that was over when I married Frank, and since then he has haunted me; he follows me everywhere, and Frank makes him his constant companion, and he leads him away." "Oh, this is dreadful!"