Whatever Wiggins may have thought or felt on the subject of the
marriage, he revealed it to no one; and Leon found himself compelled to
wait for Edith's recovery before he could accomplish any thing definite
with regard to his own position. On his return, to Dalton Hall he
learned that she was convalescent, and he was much surprised at her
immediate request for an interview.

With the result of that interview he had but little reason to be
satisfied. He felt disappointed, enraged, and humiliated. Edith had
been perfectly free from all fear of him. The young girl had shown
herself a virago. His insults she had returned with mocking sarcasms,
his threats she had treated with utter contempt, and finally she had
proved him to his own face to be a coward. Over the recollection of
that scene he could only gnash his teeth in fruitless rage. The more he
thought of that interview, the more bitter grew his mortification; and
at length he resolved to force matters to a climax at once by coming to
a distinct and final understanding with Wiggins himself.

Leon had enjoyed the freedom of the house long enough to know where
Wiggins's room was, and into that room he intruded himself abruptly on
the following day. It was in this room that Wiggins spent the greater
part of his time, carrying on a vigorous though not very extensive
correspondence, and moving the wires of those plans at which he had
hinted to Edith. He was here now, and as Leon entered he looked up with
a silent stare.

"I'll not stand this any longer," burst forth Leon, abruptly and
vehemently. "I'm in terrible difficulties. I've been waiting long
enough. You must side with me actively, for your assistance is
absolutely necessary to bring that mad girl to terms. I'm married to