Taking the early train for Toronto, Mr. D’Alton took counsel of an astute lawyer, and learned that, as events had been shapen, Miss Wilson would have now great difficulty in proving her connection with the D’Alton family, did he choose to deny it, and that the fact of her having written such letters as those received by Trevelyan and his family would be fair presumptive evidence that the woman was insane. Carefully considering his position, D’Alton determined on his course of proceeding. He was averse to a public prosecution, as many things, now unknown or forgotten, might be brought to light, and yet he felt that the woman must be effectually silenced by some means or other. Going to her residence he boldly demanded an interview with her, and, producing the letter to Trevelyan, asked if she had written it. Miss Wilson laughed as she saw the effect of her shot, and exultantly exclaimed:--“Of course I wrote it; who else _could_ have done it?” “And are you aware that you are liable to be prosecuted for libel?” pursued D’Alton. “It is no libel,” retorted she, fiercely; “you know it is true, or you would not be here now.” “Indeed! _can you prove it, then_?” “I have no need to prove it to you. Your very facial expression acknowledges it to be true.” “Will that satisfy the jury?” “What jury?” “The jury who are to try you for a malicious libel!” At this Cissie started, but recovering herself exclaimed: “_You_ dare not sue me for libel. Your history would not stand repetition in court.” “Who knows my history?” “I do!” “Indeed! WHO ARE YOU?” The fierceness with which he said this made his sister-in-law quail. She perceived that he was terribly in earnest as he repeated his question in a tone very unusual with him, and she meekly replied: “You know well enough who I am, your late wife’s sister.” “My wife _had no sister_!” The look he gave as he said this fairly frightened her. She had seen a good deal of life, and had in her time met with all kinds of men and women, but never till now did she fear either. She began to see that she had roused a desperate man, and that, legally, she had no hold on him, neither status in society; moreover that she had got entangled in the meshes of her own net, and that only the dread of exposure would prevent D’Alton from prosecuting her for libel. Not knowing what to do, she remained mute, her eyes fixed firmly on the ground. At length Mr. D’Alton broke the silence: “You have evidently had an object,” he said, “in circulating these reports. If your object be to extort money out of me, you will find it more to your interest to remain silent.” With these words he drew from his pocket a roll of bank bills, and laid them on the table near his companion; but she, growing livid with rage, refused to touch them, promising to expose him and his family before all the world.