"Mr Leslie," she said, laying her hand upon his arm and believing that she saw delirium in his eyes, consequent upon his injury, her late experience having made her prone to anticipate such a sequel. "Mr Leslie, do you know what you are saying?" "Yes, perfectly," he said slowly. "Monsieur De Ligny, the French gentleman of whom Miss Marguerite so often talked to me, came last night, while Mr Vine was at your father's, and he was persuading Louise to go with him, when I interfered and said she should not go till her father returned." "Yes?--well?" said Madelaine, watching him keenly. "Well, there was a struggle, and I got the worst of it. That's all." "That is not all!" cried Madelaine angrily. "Louise, what did she say?" "Begged him--not to press her to go," he said slowly and unwillingly, as if the words were being dragged out of him. "Yes?" "That is all," he said, still in the same slow, half-dreamy way. "I heard no more. When I came to the Vines were helping me, and--" "Louise?" "Louise was gone." "Mr Leslie," said Madelaine gently, as in a gentle, sympathetic way she laid her hand upon his arm, "you seem to have been a good deal hurt. I will not press you to speak. I'm afraid you hardly know what you say. This cannot be true." "Would to Heaven it were not!" he cried passionately. "You think I am wandering. No, no, no; I wish I could convince myself that it was. She is gone--gone!" "Gone? Louise gone? It cannot be." "Yes," he said bitterly; "it is true. I suppose when a man once gets a strong hold upon a woman's heart she is ready to be his slave, and obey him to the end. I don't know. I never won a woman's love." "His slave--obey--but who--who is this man?" "Monsieur De Ligny, I suppose. The French nobleman." Madelaine made a gesticulation with her hands, as if throwing the idea aside. "No, no, no," he said impatiently. "It is impossible. De Ligny--De Ligny? You mean that Louise Vine, my dear friend, my sister, was under the influence of some French gentleman unknown to me?" "Unknown to her father too," said Leslie bitterly, "for he reviled me when I told him." "I cannot do that," said Madelaine firmly; "but I tell you it is not true." "As you will," he said coldly; "but I saw her at his knees last night." "De Ligny--a French gentleman?" "Yes." "I tell you it is impossible." "But she has gone," said Leslie coldly. "Gone? I cannot believe it. Mr Vine? He knows where?" Leslie shook his head mournfully. "Some secret love," he said. "Yes; Louise did nurture a secret love," said Madelaine scornfully, "and for a man unworthy of her." "Poor girl!" "Yes: poor girl! Shame upon you, Duncan Leslie! She may be gone for some good reason, but it is not as you say and think. Louise, my sister, my poor suffering friend, carry on a clandestine intrigue with some French gentleman? It is not true." "You forget her aunt--the influence she has had upon the poor girl."