theatrically to the door by which Linley and Sydney Westerfield
had retired. "And Catherine has the vile creature whom your
brother picked up in London to thank for it! Now do you
understand me?"

"Less than ever," Randal answered--"unless you have taken leave
of your senses."

Mrs. Presty recovered the command of her temper.

On that fine morning her daughter might remain in the garden
until the luncheon-bell rang. Linley had only to say that he
wished to speak with his wife; and the private interview which he
had so rudely insisted on as his sole privilege, would assuredly
take place. The one chance left of still defeating him on his own
ground was to force Randal to interfere by convincing him of his
brother's guilt. Moderation of language and composure of manner
offered the only hopeful prospect of reaching this end. Mrs.
Presty assumed the disguise of patient submission, and used the
irresistible influence of good humor and good sense.

"I don't complain, dear Randal, of what you have said to me," she
replied. "My indiscretion has deserved it. I ought to have
produced my proofs, and have left it to you to draw the
conclusion. Sit down, if you please. I won't detain you for more
than a few minutes."

Randal had not anticipated such moderation as this; he took the
chair that was nearest to Mrs. Presty. They were both now sitting
with their backs turned to the entrance from the library to the