That Eugene had in the remotest degree even countenanced that wickedness, was another point she would not allow herself to question--or rather, she put it away, like every other deteriorating rumour, hearsay, or inarticulate whisper, which in the course of time come with its airy hand to point out her lover as unworthy of the devotedness of a heart and affections such as hers; put it away in the utmost recesses of her heart, as we do those things we fear to see or hear substantiated--when even a breath, a word would suffice to destroy the illusion now become so closely interwoven with the happiness of one's existence. In the meantime, Mary lived chiefly with the Gillespies though her heart's true home was with that dear brother, upon whose progress and success in his profession the chief interest of her life, independent of her one great hope, was centred; and who, on his part, unselfishly devoted every interval between the course of study he so energetically pursued, to her society, endeavouring in every way to promote her happiness or amusement; and chafing inwardly as he did, over the position in which she stood; for her sake preserved outward patience and equanimity, on a point which nevertheless touched him to the quick. Much he heard, too, which made him devoutly wish the engagement with Eugene Trevor to be broken off, without his having courage to take the bandage from his sister's eyes. Much of the private history of these, Eugene Trevor's days--we call them--of probation--nay, the profligate course his love for Mary could not even restrain within bounds. Episodes in his daily walk, with which it is not our intention to sully our pages, but calculated to make the brother's blood boil with indignation at the idea of his pure, spotless sister, becoming the wife of such a man. But how difficult the task to force on her unsuspecting mind convictions which might go nigh to break her trembling innocent heart--or at least blight the happiness of her life. He must patiently allow fate to work out its course, fervently praying that all might end well. * * * * * About a year and a half went by--another six months and Arthur Seaham's term of law study would have terminated; and he declared that to prepare himself for his last important term, it was necessary that he should have some more than ordinary relaxation of mind. He had a fancy to go to Italy, and that Mary should accompany him. She smiled at first incredulously, thinking he was in jest. She thought the idea too delightful to be realised. He was in earnest, he declared. But the journey would be so long; and the expense--could they manage it?