"Believe me, Douglas, our engagement is a mistake," she said. "Consider this before it is too late. You are a proud man where honour is concerned, and the past life of her whom you marry should be without spot or blemish. It is not so with me. If I have not sinned as other women have sinned, I have stooped to be the companion of gamblers and roués; I have allowed my house to become the haunt of reckless and dissipated men. Society revenges itself cruelly upon those who break its laws. Society will neither forget nor forgive my offence." "I do not live for society, but for you, Paulina," replied Douglas, passionately; "you are all the world to me. Let me never hear these arguments again, unless you would have me think that you are weary of me, and that you only want an excuse for getting rid of me." "Weary of you!" exclaimed Paulina; "my friend, my benefactor. How can I ever prove my gratitude for your goodness--your devotion?" "By learning to love me a little," answered Douglas, tenderly. "The lesson ought not to be difficult," Paulina murmured. Could she do less than love this noble friend, this pure-minded and unselfish adorer? He came to her one day, accompanied by a solicitor; but before introducing the man of law, he asked for a private interview with Paulina, and in this interview gave her a new proof of his devotion. "In thinking much of our position, dearest, I have been struck with a sudden terror of the uncertainty of life. What would be your fate, Paulina, if anything were to happen--if--well, if I were to die suddenly, as men so often die in this high-pressure age, before marriage had united our interests? What would be your fate, alone and helpless, assailed once more by all the perplexities of poverty, and, perhaps, subject to the mean spite of my cousin, Reginald Eversleigh, who does not forgive me for having robbed him of his place in your heart, little as he was worthy of your love?" "Oh, Douglas!" exclaimed Paulina, "why do you imagine such things? Why should death assail you?" "Why, indeed, dearest," returned Douglas, with a smile. "Do not think that I anticipate so sad a close to our engagement. But it is the duty of a man to look sharply out for every danger in the pathway of the woman he is bound to protect. I am a lawyer, remember, Paulina, and I contemplate the future with the eye of a lawyer. So far as I can secure you from even the possibility of misfortune, I will do it. I have brought a solicitor here to-day, in order that he may read you a will which I have this morning executed in your favour." "A will!" repeated Madame Durski; "you are only too good to me. But there is something horrible to my mind in these legal formalities."