She could not answer. Her tears were frozen by fear. She really thought him deranged; and so he was--that worst madness--jealousy. For the overwrought mind was not fighting with idle fancies, evanescent as vain; but with a cold, tangible reality, built on many a doubt and distorted act or word of hers, and still worse on the letters of his anonymous correspondent, whose last letter, received that morning, ran thus-- "If you wish to verify all, leave home early, professedly for the day, and watch your house; be in readiness to follow, and you will need no further proof or admonition to enable you to convince yourself. A hired brougham will be at the end of your lane. The driver, ignorant of all, will place himself at your disposal, on your giving the name of--'Gray,' as well as another--'twill keep him in your memory. "Your sincere, but unsuspected FRIEND." And Miles was resolved at last to have proof, or else never again suspect--never read another letter, but burn them unopened. "You do not speak," he said, again drawing her, shrinking from terror, close to his heart, by the arm which clasped her. "Poor child--poor Minnie! I have frightened you; forget it, my child, I am unfitting for so frail a thing as you. I should have mated with my own kind, something lion-born, and you--you with----Minnie," he cried, changing his tone suddenly, and looking full in her face with his dark, gloomy eyes, "you should have married such a man as Lord Randolph Gray, and have led a life of luxury and peace. He would never have terrified you, as _I_ do; I think you would have been very happy--I think he loves you, Minnie." The suddenness of the words, his change of manner, all combined to call the warm blood to her cheek. "Miles," she said in agitation, "do not say things like these; even in jest, Lord Randolph's name should never be mingled with mine in a breath of doubt, after that one painful scene at Uplands--you forget, too, he is Dora's----" "Oh!" laughed he hoarsely, "those things are soon broken off. Now, Minnie, were you free, on your sacred soul, do you not think that man would propose to marry you?" "On my sacred soul, Miles," she answered solemnly, shrinking from his arms, almost with a feeling of dislike towards him at the manner of his speech,--"I do not think so; and this I _know_, were I free, fifty times over, I would refuse his lordship." "Forgive me, Minnie, forgive me--forget this!" and he once more folded his arms around her, as he rose from his seat. "I am unworthy of you, yet _indeed_ I love you." His smile was almost as of old, and once again they were at peace; _he had forgotten the letter_, but it was only the merciful oblivion of a moment; their peace was like a house built on a blasted rock, through the caverns of which the wind whistles mournfully, shewing the hollowness beneath.