Rose looked at her brother, then advanced a few paces toward the door. “This is a surprise,” she said, faintly; “has anything happened? We--we didn’t expect you.” Her voice failed her as she saw her husband advancing, pale to his very lips with suppressed anger. “How dare you come here, after what I told you?” he asked, in quick, low tones. She shrank at his voice almost as if he had struck her. The blood flew into her brother’s face as he noticed the action; but he controlled himself, and, taking her hand, led her in silence to a chair. “I forbid you to sit down in his house,” said Danville, advancing still; “I order you to come back with me! Do you hear? I order you.” He was approaching nearer to her, when he caught Trudaine’s eye fixed on him, and stopped. Rose started up, and placed herself between them. “Oh, Charles, Charles!” she said to her husband, “be friends with Louis to-night, and be kind again to me. I have a claim to ask that much of you, though you may not think it!” He turned away from her, and laughed contemptuously. She tried to speak again, but Trudaine touched her on the arm, and gave her a warning look. “Signals!” exclaimed Danville; “secret signals between you!” His eye, as he glanced suspiciously at his wife, fell on Trudaine’s gift-book, which she still held unconsciously. “What book is that?” he asked. “Only a play of Corneille’s,” answered Rose; “Louis has just made me a present of it.” At this avowal Danville’s suppressed anger burst beyond all control. “Give it him back!” he cried, in a voice of fury. “You shall take no presents from him; the venom of the household spy soils everything he touches. Give it him back!” She hesitated. “You won’t?” He tore the book from her with an oath, threw it on the floor, and set his foot on it. “Oh, Louis! Louis! for God’s sake, remember.” Trudaine was stepping forward as the book fell to the floor. At the same moment his sister threw her arms round him. He stopped, turning from fiery red to ghastly pale. “No, no, Louis!” she said, clasping him closer; “not after five years’ patience. No--no!” He gently detached her arms. “You are right, love. Don’t be afraid; it is all over now.” Saying that, he put her from him, and in silence took up the book from the floor. “Won’t _that_ offend you even?” said Danville, with an insolent smile. “You have a wonderful temper--any other man would have called me out!” Trudaine looked back at him steadily; and taking out his handkerchief, passed it over the soiled cover of the book. “If I could wipe the stain of your blood off my conscience as easily as I can wipe the stain of your boot off this book,” he said quietly, “you should not live another hour. Don’t cry, Rose,” he continued, turning again to his sister: “I will take care of your book for you until you can keep it yourself.”