“No, you are not, unless you marry her. You are not the first noble-minded man that has been duped by a bad woman! You feel it as every generous hearted man would. But it will pass. Life has many chances, and you will be happy yet. _My_ friendship is not much, perhaps, but is it not something?” “Yes—yes—yes—yes—sweet friend, it is much,” said Archer Clifton, slowly—half soliloquizing, as he took and held her hand. Then suddenly starting, as out of a reverie, he exclaimed—“Mrs. Clifton, you know my errand here—it is to bring you over to Hardbargain, for the purpose of which you have already been advised by the note.” “To be present at your mad marriage, among other things?” “Yes.” “I will not go! I cannot! I cannot witness such a sacrifice.” “As you please, dear Georgia. I suppose there is no imperative necessity of your doing so—good-bye!” and he arose, and lifted his hat from the table. “Yes! good-bye, indeed!” replied Georgia, bitterly—“good-bye, indeed! if you persist in your insane purpose!—I shall remain here, and hope to the last. But when I hear that this marriage has really taken place, I leave White Cliffs within the hour!” “You will think differently, dear lady, and I shall see you again, shortly.” “Never!—as the husband of that traitress.” He did not reply. He raised her hand to his lips, and left her. Left to herself, mad impulses seized the disappointed woman. At one instant she was impelled to seize the forged letter, and rush to the death-bed of Mrs. Clifton, and there denounce her favorite as a hypocrite and a traitress. But a moment’s reflection convinced her that no art of hers could induce the dying woman to think evil of the excellent girl she herself had educated. That on the contrary, such a step might possibly result in her own signal defeat and exposure, and the everlasting anger and contempt of Archer Clifton. Her brain was beginning to reel, and her self-confidence to wane. In sudden fear she looked around for the forged letter, intending to burn it. It was nowhere to be seen. Then she recollected that Major Clifton had, on departing, picked it up, and put it in his pocket. And sick with disappointed love, jealousy, hatred, and fear, she tottered towards a lounge, but ere she reached it, fell upon the floor. In the meanwhile, Major Clifton, riding at full speed, reached the farm-house.