"I will not credit it!" cried Margie, passionately. "He did not do that
deed! He could not! So good, and noble, and pitiful of all suffering
humanity! And besides, what motive could he have?"

"The motive was all-powerful. Has not Mr. Trevlyn, by his own confession,
loved you from his youth up?"

"Yes."

"And Paul Linmere was about to become your husband. Could there be a more
potent reason for Archer Trevlyn to desire Mr. Linmere's death? He was an
obstacle which could be removed in no other way than by death, because
you had promised your father to marry him, and you could not falsify your
word. All men are weak and liable to sin; is Trevlyn any exception?
Margie, I have told you frankly what I know. You can credit it or not. I
leave it with you; decide as you think best. It is eight o'clock. I will
go now, for it is time for your lover to come for you."

"O, I cannot meet him--not to-night! I must have time to think--time to
collect my thoughts! My head whirls so, and everything is so dark! Stay,
Alexandrine, and excuse me to him. Say I have a headache--anything to
quiet him. I cannot see him now! I should go mad! Let me have a night
to think of it!"

Alexandrine put her hand on the soft hair of the bowed head.

"My poor Margie! it is hard for you. Hark! there is the bell. He has
come. Will you not go down?"