"My dear fellow, you've never loved a statue," said Errington bitterly, rising to his feet and putting on his cloak, "but it's no use talking any more. Aunt Jelly has done more harm than she knows of. I'll go down to the Hall to-morrow, and tell Alizon everything. If she believes my explanation, well and good, if she does not----" "Well?" asked Eustace, seeing his cousin hesitated. "Well!" repeated the other harshly, "I shall come back to London and Mrs. Veilsturm." He was gone before Eustace could offer a word of remonstrance on the folly of such a determination, and then Gartney returned to his seat with an air of utter lassitude. "Kismet," he said to himself, after a long pause. "It is Destiny." Was it indeed Destiny that had interfered for the third time? Was it fixed by Fate that he should be Lady Errington's lover, and lose his honourable name for her sake? It seemed like it, seeing that all barriers he had set up against this illicit love, were swept away by the actions of other people, and the field left open to him. Still, Alison had not yet had her interview with Guy, and, as she must know how much he loved her, surely she would accept his explanation of the lying reports concerning his infatuation for Mrs. Veilsturm. If she did so, all would be well with them both, but if she refused to believe his story, and dismissed him coldly, then---- Eustace arose to his feet, and walking over to the window, looked out into the hot night. Below, the glare and glitter of gas-lamps--above, the luminous light of the stars--and far in the east, rising over the sombre masses of clouds, burned an evil planet, which was dreaded of old by the Chaldeans. The man looking at it with troubled eyes felt the twin powers of good and evil strive in his heart. And the star gleamed steadily in the thunderous sky. CHAPTER XXVIII. HUSBAND AND WIFE. "You have broken your oath And broken my heart, Oh, sorrow for both, You have broken your oath; Although I am loth In anger to part, You have broken your oath And broken my heart." Alizon Errington was seated in the Dutch room with Aunt Jelly's letter clenched in her hand, and Sammy playing on the carpet beside her. The child, rolling among his toys was babbling inarticulate words of endearment to them, but the mother's eyes were fixed on the gaudy bed of tulips blazing in the sunshine as she thought over the words she had just read.