The bitter sentiment of insulted pride and mortified self esteem which often come so powerfully to the aid of the deserted, and enable them to triumph over the more tender and acute reflections, were kindled and fanned and fostered by the artful sophistry of Annie, who, with her real condolences, threw in such nice little soothing and flattering inuendoes, mingled with condemnations of Walter, and pretended rumours of his marriage, the beauty and gallantries of his French wife, whom some called a countess and others a courtesan, that Lilian first learned to hear her patiently and then with indignation. With these were mingled occasional praises of Clermistonlee, managed with great tact, for Annie was cunning as a lynx, and never failed to flank all her arguments with the powerful one, how necessary it was for the restoration of her own honour, that she should receive the roué lord as her husband. Poor Lilian, though these advices stung her to the soul, learned at last to hear and to think of them with calmness, and (shall we acknowledge it?) to say at last, "that it might be." With something of that fierce sentiment of desperation and revenge which, like a gage thrown down to fate, makes the ruined gamester place his last stake on the turn of a card, she began deliberately to school herself into thinking of Clermistonlee as her future husband; and though in reality poverty was the real cause of it, Lady Craigdarroch failed not to impress upon Lilian how much he was reformed, how penitent he was, and for three years past had never been engaged in any piece of frolic or wickedness, and wound up by asserting that a reformed rake made the best husband. What love and perseverance could never accomplish, revenge achieved at last. "Alas! the love of women, it is known, To be a lovely and a fearful thing; For all of theirs upon the die is thrown And if 'tis lost, life hath no more to bring." Long and assiduous were the exertions, the arguments and artifices of Annie, and long and fearful was the struggle that tortured the heart of Lilian, ere she would consent to receive Clermistonlee as her suitor. At last the fatal words were said. Annie flew to communicate the joyous tidings, and when next day he rode up the avenue to pay his devoirs, the miserable girl nearly swooned. The ring, the little embossed ring of antique gold, the last and only gift of Walter, and which he said contained _the secret_ of his life, she had now laid aside, carefully locked up in a cabinet, because it brought too vividly before her the memories she had resolved to banish from her heart for ever. Gladly will we hurry over this chapter of pain and humiliation.