She arose as if to leave the room, but Adrian advanced a step or two, and said, firmly: “Not so, madam; you have done my wife altogether too much injury, and covered up your iniquity too long to admit of my keeping silence now. You have sneered and tried my patience beyond endurance to-day with your insinuations concerning a ‘clandestine marriage,’ and it is but just and right that she should be exonerated in the presence of Lady Randal from all blame for what you, by your cruelty, drove her to.” “Good heavens! Adrian explain yourself. I am all in a maze! What do you mean by all this talk about complicity, iniquity, and cruelty?” demanded Lady Randal, looking from one to another in perplexity. Adrian, in the fewest words possible, told the story of the jewels, and her ladyship knew before he had finished that every word he uttered was truth. She, too, began to grow pale and nervous, as she realized that his wife was the niece of the woman whom she had so deeply injured, and conscience stung her sharply as these memories of the past were revived. “Mrs. Dredmond,” said Lady Dunforth, who had scarcely spoken yet, “will you please open that casket, and allow me to look at its contents?” Brownie lifted the lid, for the lock had been forced after she had taken the key, and it was only fastened by the spring, and revealed the glittering treasures it contained. Lady Randal uttered a cry, and gasped out: “I might have known it in the first place. I thought I had seen them before, especially those corals.” “Ah! you recognize the corals, then? Possibly you remember the first and only time this lady’s aunt wore them, years and years ago?” said his lordship, with bitter irony, while his own face blanched and great drops of perspiration stood upon his forehead. “Those jewels,” he went on, striving for composure, “were given to Miss Mehetabel Douglas, the grandaunt of Mrs. Dredmond, more than forty years ago. I myself presented those corals, also that tiara, with one or two other pieces. The others were given her in honor of her approaching marriage with myself.” Mrs. Coolidge nearly screamed at this announcement. Yes, she saw it all now; the mystery was all explained—the titled names upon the dancing card, the faded flowers, and everything which had so puzzled her. But Brownie, thinking a little more explanation was necessary, lifted the velvet bed, and taking up that dancing list, passed it to him, and asked him to unlock the secret of it, since it had greatly troubled Mrs. Coolidge and her daughter. He took it; but his hand shook as with the ague, as he read the names upon it. “This,” he said, turning first to Mrs. Coolidge, then to Lady Randal, with stern brow, “is the order of dances as they occurred upon a certain occasion at the house of your aunt, Lady Ruxley, more than forty years ago. Do you remember, Helen?” “Yes, I remember,” her lips articulated, while her eyes seemed fastened, as if by fascination, upon him.