Presently, he placed his hand upon the decanter before him, and said-- “A little wine with you would be very agreeable, Mr. Wilton.” Mark bowed slightly, and sipped his wine. Again a silence ensued; and soon Mark’s thoughts were far away. Lotte’s quiet, pale, sad face rose up before him, and her thoughtful eyes seemed to be turned appealingly upon him for help and aid. Suddenly a flush of heat passed across his features, his eye kindled brightly, and his brow lowered. He turned to Lester Vane, and in a sharp tone said-- “We have met before.” Vane looked at him, somewhat surprised at the suddenness of his remark and at its tone. With equal quickness, it occurred to him that Mark recollected only at this moment the scene in Hyde Park. He was prepared for what was coming, and replied, quietly-- “Unquestionably, on my last visit here.” “Before, sir, we encountered each other in this house. Look at my face well, sir; listen to the tone of my voice; and then tell me if your memory does not furnish you with the circumstances under which we, on a former occasion, confronted each other.” Vane returned calmly his angry gaze; and, with a most collected manner, replied-- “But for your earnestness, Mr. Wilton, I should imagine you were jesting. Upon my honour I am unconscious of having had the satisfaction of meeting you previous to our introduction here.” “We met, sir, in Hyde Park one evening----” commenced Mark, rather impetuously. Vane stayed him. “Your pardon, Mr. Wilton,” he said; “in what month?” Mark replied promptly. Vane shook his head coolly, and returned-- “I was not in London; I was in Oxford.” “In Oxford?” cried Mark, as if he could not believe his ears. “In Oxford,” repeated Vane, slowly enunciating his words. “I give you my word such is the fact, and if the occasion to which you may refer be of importance to you, I will, in order to set you right on the matter, produce, within a few days, proofs that I am simply stating--what, as a gentleman, I have a claim my bare word should guarantee--the truth.” Mark swallowed a glass of wine. He could say no more at present. He felt convinced that Vane was the man he had seen in companionship with those who had insulted Lotte, and he determined to pursue the subject until he had either proved him a liar and a debauchee, or confess that, in this instance at least, he was mis taken. He took the first opportunity of excusing himself, and left Vane alone. Alone to reflect on his position, to examine carefully the opposition he should have to contend with, from what quarter it would proceed, what would be its power, and how it was to be crushed.