Yes, there he stood, the man who had blighted her young life, who had dragged her into the mud, from which, in spite of him, she had arisen. He was changed, certainly, but what changes could disguise him? His hair, once short, was now long and luxuriant, he was clothed in garments of the newest cut, he was talking rapidly, twisting his body into various contortions, for the benefit of the small crowd about him. There was no mistaking those pitiless eyes, that cruel mouth. Yes, it was Belleisle, the man who had cheated her into becoming his mistress, who had made her the decoy of a gambling hell, who had dragged her into the very depths of dishonour and pollution. She sat for a time concealing her face with her fan, but gazing upon him in a wild fascination; then a terror seized her that the dreadful figure might approach and she would be recognised. The mere possibility sent a cold thrill through all her frame, and she realised for the first time all the evil which one word from the man’s lips could bring upon her head. Serena returned with a glass of wine and a biscuit. She sipped the wine, but put the biscuit from her. Then she turned her white face towards Serena, and whispered eagerly-- ‘Mr. Serena, I must go home!’ ‘Go home! My dear Mrs. Forster, the evening has hardly begun. We cannot lose one of our brightest ornaments--besides, I have yet to introduce you to----’ ‘Hush,’ interrupted Madeline, eagerly, ‘do, pray, let me go. Take me downstairs, I can bear this place no longer. I will wait in the hall for the carriage, and you can bring Miss Forster to me.’ So saying, and without giving Serena time to reply, she rose, took his arm, and drew him out of the crowded room, down the stairs. Once clear of the room she seemed to breathe more freely, but her cheek still retained its ashen grey hue, and the hand which rested upon his arm trembled violently. He led her to the hall, wrapped her cloak about her, and ordered her carriage; then, at her request, he returned to the room to fetch Miss Forster. It was yet early, carriages continued to drive up to the door, and new streams of people made their way into the dwelling, but in the confusion no one noticed Madeline. She had withdrawn into the shadow, and stood now tremulous with excitement and eager to be gone, and inwardly thanking God that she had escaped the Frenchman’s eye. Suddenly she felt herself lightly touched upon the arm. She turned quickly, and found herself face to face with the very man she feared! Instantly she shrank away, and a quick cry of pain escaped her lips. She put her hand to her head in a wild bewildered fear, and stared stupidly at her foe. The Frenchman was by no means disconcerted. He bowed politely before her, asked in an audible voice if he could be of any service to her, but whispered low---- ‘I must see you alone to-morrow. Name a place where we shall meet!’