How she loved him! She seemed to have forgotten or forgiven the offered insult of yesterday. Turning back the garment she touched her lips to the silk lining where it had covered his heart. As she did so she noticed the tinted edge of a narrow envelope in the inner pocket. In an instant she was seized with a passion of curiosity. All her jealousy and suspicions of the sweet-faced girl in gray came rushing back. She listened at the curtained arch for a moment, but there was no sound of approaching footsteps; then, her eyes flashing, and her cheeks flaming guiltily, she snatched the delicate missive from its concealment, and with trembling hands tore it from its covering. In another instant her suspicions were verified. The woman reading seemed suddenly to have become deranged. "Coward!--liar!--cur!" she screamed. She tore the letter in halves, crumpled it in her hands, and flung it upon the floor. Then suddenly becoming calm she gathered up the pieces hastily and concealed them in her bosom. A look of peculiar cunning had come into her eyes. "So he is going to meet her," she muttered, savagely; "but they will not meet alone. I, too, will go to No. 74 West L---- Street, east side." Then she hesitated. "Perhaps I would not be admitted," she thought. Plans for overcoming this obstacle flashed through her brain like lightning. She seized upon what appeared to her the most feasible. "If I will counterfeit her," she said, feverishly; "I will disguise myself." She hurried back into the studio and stood for a moment before the easel. Yes, yes; she could do it. Her figure was much the same, dress gray and plain, hair low upon the forehead--a veil would make it complete. "Oh," she muttered, "how I hate your baby face! Look! I will kill you, you fool--you fool!" Again that sickening, fascinating terror of this unknown woman came upon her. Hastily turning from the portrait she listened a second for the artist's step. As she did so her eye caught the weapons on the wall. Without a moment's hesitation she plucked the jewel-hilted stiletto from its place, and concealing it beneath her cloak hurried from the house. * * * * * An hour later the artist burst into the studio. His bloodshot eyes, and face blackened with travel, made him almost unrecognizable. Hurrying through to his room beyond he glanced eagerly at the clock. It was on the stroke of five. "Just time to make myself presentable and reach the place by six," he thought. Then, turning, he surveyed himself in a mirror. "Good heavens, what a spectacle I am! People must have thought I was a maniac--and they were not far from wrong--but I am all right now. I am going to Eva and confess my villainy, and ask her forgiveness. I will swear my faith to her. She will forgive me--she must forgive me. And as for Evelin, all is over with her after what passed last night. Last night! was it only last night? It seemed an age."