the crisis to which she approached. As the myrrh and hyssop which
drugged the malefactors of old into forgetfulness of their doom, so there
are griefs which stupefy before their last and crowning consummation!

Vargrave conversed lightly on the weather, the news, the last book.
Evelyn answered but in monosyllables; and Caroline, with a hand-screen
before her face, preserved an unbroken silence. Thus gloomy and joyless
were two of the party, thus gay and animated the third, when the clock on
the mantelpiece struck ten; and as the last stroke died, and Evelyn
sighed heavily,--for it was an hour nearer to the fatal day,--the door
was suddenly thrown open, and pushing aside the servant, two gentlemen
entered the room.

Caroline, the first to perceive them, started from her seat with a faint
exclamation of surprise. Vargrave turned abruptly, and saw before him
the stern countenance of Maltravers.

"My child! my Evelyn!" exclaimed a familiar voice; and Evelyn had already
flown into the arms of Aubrey.

The sight of the curate in company with Maltravers explained all at once
to Vargrave. He saw that the mask was torn from his face, the prize
snatched from his grasp, his falsehood known, his plot counterworked, his
villany baffled! He struggled in vain for self-composure; all his
resources of courage and craft seemed drained and exhausted. Livid,
speechless, almost trembling, he cowered beneath the eyes of Maltravers.

Evelyn, not as yet aware of the presence of her former lover, was the
first to break the silence. She lifted her face in alarm from the bosom
of the good curate. "My mother--she is well--she lives--what brings you