"Ah!" she sighed in a low, hoarse voice, "I--I never dreamed of the pitfalls set for me, and in my inexperience believed in the honesty of everyone. But surely I was not alone! Beneath a dress shirt beats the heart of many a blackguard, and in our London drawing-rooms are to be found persons whose careers, if exposed, would startle the world. There are men with world-famous names who ought to be in the criminal dock, but whose very social position is their safeguard; and women with titles who pose as charity patrons, but are mere adventuresses. Our little world, Wilfrid, is, indeed, a strange one, a circle of class and criminality utterly inconceivable by the public who only know of us through the newspapers. I had success because, I suppose, of what people are pleased to call my good looks, but--but, alas! I fell a victim--I fell into a trap ingeniously set for me, and when I struggled to set myself free I only fell deeper and deeper into the blackguardly intrigue. You see me now!" she cried after a brief pause, "a desperate woman who cares nought for life, only for her good name. I live to defend that before the world, for my poor mother's sake. Daily I am goaded on to kill myself and end it all. I should have done so had not Providence sent you to me, Wilfrid, to aid and counsel me. Yet the blow has again fallen, and I now see no way to vindicate myself. The net has closed around me--and--and--I must die!" And she burst into a sudden torrent of tears. Were they tears of remorse, or of heart-broken bitterness? "There is no other way!" she added in a faint, desperate voice, her trembling hand closing upon my wrist. "You must leave me to myself. Go back to London and remain silent. And when they discover me dead you will still remain in ignorance--but sometimes you will think of me-- think of me, Wilfrid," she sobbed, "as an unhappy woman who has fallen among unscrupulous enemies." "But this is madness!" I cried. "You surely will not admit yourself vanquished now?" "No, not madness, only foresight. You, too, are in deadly peril, and must leave me. With me, hope is now dead--there is only the grave." She spoke those last words so calmly and determinedly that I was thoroughly alarmed. I refused to leave her. The fact that Parham had discovered her showed that all hope of escape was now cut off. This she admitted to me. Standing before me, her countenance white and haggard, I saw how terribly desperate she was. Her chin then sank upon her breast and she sobbed bitterly. I placed my hand tenderly upon her shoulder, full of sympathy. "The story of your unhappiness, Tibbie, is the story of your love. Is it not?" I asked, slowly. Her chest rose and fell slowly as she raised her tearful eyes to mine, and in reply, said in a low, faltering voice,-- "Listen, and I will tell you. Before I die it is only right that you should know the truth--you who are my only friend."