"No," she said firmly; "I am fixed in my resolve to form no other ties. Mr. Fox-Cordery, it would be a mere pretense for me to say I do not understand you. I beg you to go no farther--to say nothing more. You were my husband's friend; you are mine. Let us remain friends." "But, dear Mrs. Grantham," he stammered, enraged and confounded at this unexpected repulse, "surely you must have seen, you must have known--the devotion of years----" Either inability to proceed, or an expression in her face, restrained him here. "Do not say what cannot be unsaid or forgotten. It will be best for both of us. Clair and I have been very happy during our visit. If you wish to drive us away----" "No, no!" he cried; "you are cruel to make the suggestion. I do not deserve such a return. My mother would look upon it as an affront; and Charlotte--you love Charlotte----" He hardly knew what to say in his confusion; but he felt it would be quite fatal to his hopes if he lost his present hold upon her. "You do not deserve such a return," she said; "and not for worlds would I wound your mother's feelings or yours. It was only an hour ago that I promised Charlotte not to curtail my visit; and I will promise you, if you will engage not to reopen the subject. Let us forget what has passed. Shall we exchange promises?" She held out her hand, and he deluded himself into the belief that he saw signs of softening in her face. As he took her hand his native cunning and coolness returned to him, and he was more than ever determined that she should not slip from him. He would be her master yet, and she should pay for her treatment of him. Even as he held her hand in his, the skeleton of a scheme to force her compliance presented itself to his mind, fertile in schemes and snares. "I am almost inclined to be jealous of dear Clair," he said, in a plaintive tone, "for she seems to stand in the way of my happiness." "You must not say that. If it were not for her, I might not be living this day. Through her, I saw my duty clear before me. I live only for her and for her happiness. It is an understanding, then?" "Yes," he said, "it is an understanding. Excuse me now; I will go and give these flowers to Charlotte." But he did nothing of the kind. He walked away, and when he was sure that no one saw him he tore the posy to pieces, and trod savagely upon the fragments, stamping at the same time upon every living thing beneath him that caught his eye. Such acts of destruction and cruelty always afforded him satisfaction, and after a few minutes so occupied he devoted himself more calmly to the difficulties of his position. Gradually a scheme formed itself in his mind, and he smiled at the thought that it would lead him to victory. He recalled the words Mrs. Grantham had spoken: