"Let me tell you," she says, hurriedly and eagerly. "Yesterday Mr. Clyde sent me a note relative to my promise to meet him last night. In it he says, distinctly and clearly: 'If you do not marry me, I swear I will shoot myself through the heart.' I remember that the note is in the pocket of the blue dress I wore yesterday. Tell me, for Heaven's sake, would that be proof sufficient?" "If the writing could be proved as Mr. Clyde's, it would entirely clear you from suspicion." "Then let them take me to Langton Villa," she cries, anxiously. "I can lay my hand upon the note in one moment." All eyes are turned upon her glad, triumphant face. No one remembers Vane Charteris where he stands in the shade of the tall maples. Yet a strange look has come upon the fair, handsome face. The lips curl nervously beneath the golden-brown mustache, the blue eyes gleam with a strange, mocking triumph. CHAPTER VIII. Mr. Langton is nowhere to be seen when Maud re-enters the home, so late her own. Reine comes to meet her, pale, troubled, sympathetic. They have not been very fond of each other in the past--Maud has been too proud to encourage the friendship of her poor cousin--but now the heart of the younger girl goes out to the other in a gush of sympathy and sorrow. "Maud, I am _so_ sorry," she says, putting her hand gently on the girl's arm; "but never fear, dear. All will come right. Of course you would not have harmed a single hair of Mr. Clyde's head. Everybody must know _that_." "Come with me to my room, Reine," Maud answers. Inside that quiet room she had quitted only yesterday eve in such high hope Maud's proud self-possession breaks down. Throwing herself on a luxurious sofa, she gives way to hysterical weeping. "I am _so_ sorry, Maud," Reine can only repeat, in gentlest sympathy. Maud gives her an angry glance through her tears. "Sorry," she says. "Sorry! Why should you be? Your fortune is built on the wreck of mine." "Oh, Maud, do not say so," the girl cries, deeply pained. "Indeed, indeed, I do not want the money. I will ask Uncle Langton to give it all to you. I have Vane, I care for nothing else." "You love him?" Maud says, with lifted brows, slightly incredulous. "Yes," with a deep, beautiful blush. "You cannot suppose that he cares for you," Maud says, with subdued contempt. "Not yet--not as he cared for you, of course, Maud. But I hope to win him after awhile. You know," hopefully, "he must have thought he could learn to care for me, else he would not have married me." "What a little simpleton you are," Maud says, disdainfully. "Ring the bell for my maid, please." The maid comes, her eyes red with weeping. She has been mourning over the troubles of her late mistress, and now, with dejected brow, stands waiting. "Nellie, you remember the note you brought me from Mr. Clyde yesterday?"