"Blanche is getting ready to go out with me.

We mean to have a walk together. I have many

things to say to her.

Before we go, I have some

thing to say to you."

"Is it anything very serious?"

"It is most serious."

"About me?"

"About you. I know where you went, on the evening of my lawn-party at Windygates-you went to Craig Fernie.”

"Good heavens! how did you find out

وو

"I know whom you went to meet-Miss Silvester. I know what is said of you and of her— you are man and wife.”

1

"Hush! don't speak so loud. Somebody may hear you!"

"What does it matter if they do? I am the only person whom you have kept out of the secret. You all of you know it here."

it."

"Nothing of the sort! Blanche doesn't know

"What! Neither you nor Sir Patrick have told Blanche of the situation you stand in at this moment?"

"Not yet. Sir Patrick leaves it to me. I haven't been able to bring myself to do it. Don't say a word, I entreat you! I don't know how Blanche may interpret it. Her friend is expected in London to-morrow. I want to wait till Sir Patrick can

bring them together. her better than I can. thinks it a good one. away already?"

Her friend will break it to

It's my notion. Sir Patrick

Stop! you're not going

"She will be here to look for me, if I stay any

longer."

"One word! I want to know

"You shall know, later in the day."

Her ladyship appeared again round the angle of the wall. The next words that passed, were words spoken in a whisper.

"Are you satisfied now, Blanche ?"

"Have you mercy enough left, Lady Lundie, to take me away from this house ?"

"My dear child! Why else did I look at the time-table in the hall ?"

CHAPTER THE FORTY-EIGHTH.

THE EXPLOSION.

RNOLD'S mind was far from easy when he was left by himself again in the smoking

room.

After wasting some time, in vainly trying to guess at the source from which Lady Lundie had derived her information, he put on his hat, and took the direction which led to Blanche's favourite walk at Ham Farm. Without absolutely distrusting her ladyship's discretion, the idea had occurred to him that he would do well to join his wife and her stepmother. By making a third at the interview between them, he might prevent the conversation from assuming a perilously-confidential turn.

The search for the ladies proved useless. They had not taken the direction in which he supposed them to have gone.

He returned to the smoking-room, and composed himself to wait for events as patiently as he might. In this passive position—with his thoughts

.still running on Lady Lundie-his memory reverted to a brief conversation between Sir Patrick and himself, occasioned, on the previous day, by her ladyship's announcement of her proposed visit to Ham Farm. Sir Patrick had at once expressed his conviction that his sister-in-law's journey south had some unacknowledged purpose at the bottom of it.

"I am not at all sure, Arnold " (he had said), "that I have done wisely in leaving her letter unanswered. And I am strongly disposed to think that the safest course will be to take her into the secret when she comes to-morrow. We can't help the position in which we are placed. It was impossible (without admitting your wife to our confidence) to prevent Blanche from writing that unlucky letter to her and even if we had prevented it, she must have heard in other ways of your return to England. I don't doubt my own discretion so far; and I don't doubt the convenience of keeping her in the dark, as a means of keeping her from meddling in this business of yours, until I have had time to set it right. But she may, by some unlucky accident, discover the truth for herself; and, in that case, I strongly distrust the influence which she might attempt to exercise on Blanche's mind."

Those were the words-and what had happened, on the day after they had been spoken? Lady

die had discovered the truth; and she was, at

that moment, alone somewhere with Blanche. Arnold took up his hat once more, and set forth on the search for the ladies in another direction.

The second expedition was as fruitless as the first. Nothing was to be seen, and nothing was to be heard, of Lady Lundie and Blanche.

Arnold's watch told him that it was not far from the time when Sir Patrick might be expected to return. In all probability, while he had been looking for them, the ladies had gone back, by some other way, to the house. He entered the rooms on the ground-floor, one after another. They were all empty. He went upstairs, and knocked at the door of Blanche's room. There was no answer. He opened the door, and looked in. The room was empty, like the rooms downstairs. But, close to the entrance, there was a trifling object to attract notice, in the shape of a note lying on the carpet. He picked it up, and saw that it was addressed to him, in the handwriting of his wife.

He opened it. The note began, without the usual form of address, in these words :

I know the abominable secret that you and my uncle have hidden from me. I know your infamy, and her infamy, and the position in which, thanks to you and to her, I now stand. Reproaches would be wasted words, addressed to such a man as you are. I write these lines to tell you that I have placed myself under my stepmother's protection in