"No. Come with me. Let us go down and see Uncle Luke." "But you really think--" he faltered. "I really think?" she cried with her eyes flashing. "Am I to lose all faith and confidence in you? I tell you what you say is impossible." Her words, her manner, sent flashes of hope through the darkness that haunted Leslie's spirit, and without a word he turned and walked hurriedly down with her toward the town till they reached the seat in the sheltered niche, where he had had that memorable conversation with Aunt Marguerite. There he paused, and pointed to the seat. "She sat there with me," he said bitterly, "and poured her poison into my ears till under a smiling face I felt half mad. I have tried so hard to free myself from their effect, but it has been hard--so hard. And last night--" "You saw something which shook your confidence in Louise for the moment, but that is all gone now." "I think--I--" "I vouch for my friend's truth," said Madelaine proudly. "I tell you that you have been deceived." Leslie was ghastly pale, and the injury he had received and the mental agony of the past night made him look ten years older, as he drew in a catching breath, and then said hastily-- "Come on, and let us find out the truth." CHAPTER FIFTY FOUR. AUNT MARGUERITE FINDS A FRIEND. Uncle Luke met them at the garden gate, and took Madelaine's hands in his, drawing her towards him, and kissing her brow. "Tell me, Mr Luke," she said quickly, "it is not true?" "What he says is not true, Maddy," said the old man quietly. "But Louise?" "Gone, my dear. Left here last night. No," he continued, "we know nothing except what her letter says. She has good reason for what she has done, no doubt, but it is very terrible for my brother." Madelaine darted a triumphant look at Leslie. "Look here, my child," said Uncle Luke, "I am uneasy about George. Go in and see him, and if he says anything about Louy, you will side with me and take her part?" "Do you think I could believe it of Louise?" said Madelaine, proudly. Uncle Luke held her hand in his, patting it softly the while. "No," he said, "I don't think you could. Go to him now. Tell him it will all be cleared up some day, perhaps sooner than we think." "Where is he?" she said quietly. "In his study." She nodded her head with a confident look in her eyes, crossed the hall, and tapped at the study door. "Come in." The words bidding her to enter were uttered in so calm and matter-of-fact a way, that Madelaine felt startled, and Uncle Luke's words, "I am uneasy about George," came with a meaning they had not before possessed. She entered and stopped short, for there before the open window, close to which was a glass vessel full of water, stood George Vine, busy with a microscope, by whose help he was carefully examining the structure of some minute organism, while one busy hand made notes upon a sheet of paper at his side.