"But why did I say she applied the test? In girlish caprice--foolish enough--but harmless as to intention. Have you forgotten what women are in their 'hour of ease?' if danger or sorrow menaced you, she would stand by you to the last. She loves you, Lynn,--I am assured of this." "Not so am I. I called there this evening. She had promised to accompany me hither, but she was 'engaged with company!' Those addlepates, Pemberton and Talbot were there, doling out their senseless prattle; and she was gracious to them, repellant to me. If Pemberton were not a puppy, I would not sleep before I crossed swords with him. She waltzed with him last night. I had told her that I would not invite any lady, whom I respected, to engage in that most disgusting of dances. Conceive of my feelings, when, within the hour, I saw her whirling down the hall in his arms! And the coxcomb's insufferable impudence! if he thwarts me again, I will cane him!" "You will _not_! Go and see Ellen to-morrow, when there is no one to annoy you, by preventing a private interview. Set before her the unkindness, the want of generosity apparent in her conduct; assert your rights with dignity, and your resolution to uphold them." "I would not pain her, Ida. She has chosen the easiest method of undeceiving me; better this, than a life-time of misery to both. She said, the other day, to a gentle reproach for an open slight, which would have offended a vainer man, mortally, that she did it to mislead others. 'A young lady,' she remarked, 'sinks into a cypher, if it is suspected that she is betrothed. I have not had my lawful amount of admiration yet.' "'Ellen!' said I, 'I have loved you as man never loved woman before; have believed you pure and high-minded. If I thought that the despicable coquetry you insinuate, caused you to insist upon the concealment of our engagement, I would trumpet it to the world, and then break it myself!'" "Lynn, remember where you are! You are too harsh; it was a jest." "The manner displeased me most, and to-night, when I saw those fops--could I be patient?" Their conversation and saunter were prolonged. "Are you going home to-night?" asked Josephine, gaily, hailing them in one of their rounds. "They are extinguishing the lamps." Ida changed color as she saw that she had Mr. Lacy's arm. Lynn observed it, and waited for her. "You are fast walkers--go on," said Josephine, at the door. As they passed, Ida had a view of Mr. Lacy's features. They were so pale and rigid, that she started. He answered her look of apprehension with one that froze her blood. What had she done to draw down that stern, yet sorrowful rebuke? "The look you wear A heart may heal or break." Her pillow was damp that night.