tonight, when we shan't be interrupted."

Marston spoke in a fierce and grating whisper, and his countenance, more
even than his accents, betrayed the intensity of his bridled fury. Sir
Wynston, however, smiled upon his cousin as if his voice had been melody,
and his looks all sunshine.

"Very good, Marston, just as you please," he said; "only don't be later
than one, as I shall be getting into bed about that hour."

"Perhaps, upon second thoughts, it is as well to defer what I have to
say," said Marston, musingly. "Tomorrow will do as well; so, perhaps, Sir
Wynston, I may not trouble you tonight."

"Just as suits you best, my dear Marston," replied the baronet, with a
tranquil smile; "only don't come after the hour I have stipulated."

So saying, the baronet mounted the stairs, and made his way to his
chamber. He was in excellent spirits, and in high good-humor with
himself: the object of his visit to Gray Forest had been, as he now
flattered himself, attained. He had conducted an affair requiring the
profoundest mystery in its prosecution, and the nicest tactic in its
management, almost to a triumphant issue. He had perfectly masked his
design, and completely outwitted Marston; and to a person who piqued
himself upon his clever diplomacy, and vaunted that he had never yet
sustained a defeat in any object which he had seriously proposed to
himself, such a combination of successes was for the moment quite
intoxicating.

Sir Wynston not only enjoyed his own superiority with all the vanity of a