clear at once to the unhappy girl--all that had been kept from her by
protecting love. All her vague conjectures now became a dreadful
certainty;--explained now why Lionel had fled her--why he had written
that letter, over the contents of which she had pondered, with her finger
on her lip, as if to hush her own sighs--all, all! She marry Lionel now!
impossible! She bring disgrace upon him in return for such generous,
magnanimous affection! She drive his benefactor, her grandsire's
vindicator, from his own hearth! She--she--that Sophy who, as a mere
infant, had recoiled from the thought of playful subterfuge and
tamperings with plain honest truth! She rose before Fairthorn had done;
indeed, the tormentor, left to himself, would not have ceased till
nightfall.

"Fear not, Mr. Fairthorn," she said, resolutely; "Mr. Darrell will be no
exile! his house will not be destroyed. Lionel Haughton shall not wed
the child of disgrace! Fear not, sir; all is safe!"

She shed not a tear; nor was there writ on her countenance that CHANGE,
speaking of blighted hope, which had passed over it at her young lover's
melancholy farewell. No, now she was supported--now there was a virtue
by the side of a sorrow--now love was to shelter and save the beloved
from disgrace--from disgrace! At that thought, disgrace fell harmless
from herself, as the rain from the plumes of a bird. She passed on, her
cheek glowing, her form erect.

By the porch-door she met Waife and the Morleys. With a kind of wild
impetuosity she seized the old man's arm, and drew it fondly, clingingly
within her own. Henceforth they two were to be, as in years gone by, all
in all to each other. George Morley eyed her countenance in thoughtful
surprise. Mrs. Morley, bent as usual on saying something seasonably