does amaze me. Did she mention the name of the young lady?"

"Yes; Lilian Ashleigh. Henceforth be more frank with me. Who knows? I
may help you. Adieu!"




CHAPTER XXVII.

When Margrave had gone, I glanced at the clock,--not yet nine. I resolved
to go at once to Mrs. Poyntz. It was not an evening on which she
received, but doubtless she would see me. She owed me an explanation.
How thus carelessly divulge a secret she had been enjoined to keep; and
this rival, of whom I was ignorant? It was no longer a matter of wonder
that Hargrave should have described Lilian's peculiar idiosyncrasies in
his sketch of his fabulous Pythoness. Doubtless Mrs. Poyntz had, with
unpardonable levity of indiscretion, revealed all of which she disapproved
in my choice. But for what object? Was this her boasted friendship for
me? Was it consistent with the regard she professed for Mrs. Ashleigh and
Lilian? Occupied by these perplexed and indignant thoughts, I arrived at
Mrs. Poyntz's house, and was admitted to her presence. She was
fortunately alone; her daughter and the colonel had gone to some party on
the Hill. I would not take the hand she held out to me on entrance;
seated myself in stern displeasure, and proceeded at once to inquire if
she had really betrayed to Mr. Margrave the secret of my engagement to
Lilian.

"Yes, Allen Fenwick; I have this day told, not only Mr. Margrave, but
every person I met who is likely to tell it to some one else, the secret