dismayed at the unexpected encounter, madeline gazed at the englishman for a time in speechless confusion; then she turned her head and gazed helplessly around.

‘mademoiselle,’ said the young man, quietly, ‘i fear you are not prepared for this meeting with me. well, let me tell you i am here on an errand of duty, not pleasure. my friend, the marquis de vaux, has placed this affair entirely in my hands—————-’

‘oh, monsieur!’

‘pray do not interrupt me, mademoiselle. i have little to say, so our interview can be brief—it will be better for us both. i had the pleasure of meeting you once before—only once, when i offered you my assistance, because i feared you needed some one to pluck you from the clutches of that frenchman, in whose company you were staying at the hotel. but when i offered you my help i thought you were some pure-minded, misguided english girl. i did not know that you were the mistress of a scoundrel, and that you were making your way to paris to become the decoy for a gambling hell.’

‘monsieur! monsieur!’

‘pray, hear me out. ’tis some weeks now since i discovered whither my seemingly virtuous english girl had flown. i have seen you driving in the crowded thoroughfares of paris, smiling and bowing to the miserable wretches whom your smiles have brought to ruin. i saw you, and said nothing. had you been discreet, i should have spared you. but since you seem to have no discretion, since you have thought it pastime to delude and cause the ruin of a friend of mine, i give you due notice i shall spare you no more. here are the letters which from time to time you have written to my friend, and which your trusty servant has delivered for you. i give you two days to leave paris with your protector; if, at the end of that time, you still linger here, i shall speak to the police, and let the law take its course.’

without another word he walked away.

madeline did not move; she stood like one turned to stone. in her hand she held a packet of letters, while the words ‘decoy of a gambling hell’ rang with strange echoes in her brain. how long she stood there she did not know; the sharp breath of the night air brushing her cheek, as she tottered from the hotel, recalled her to herself. she shiveringly drew her cloak around her and walked—home.

the smart french maid was amazed to see her mistress back so early.

with a wave of the hand madeline stopped all questioning and dismissed the girl for the night. then she sat down to think. how her head ached! how cold and shivering and wretched she felt! days and nights seemed to have gone by since she started off on her strange errand that evening. in reality only a few hours had passed. how those few hours had changed her!

presently she remembered the packet which the englishman had given her. she took it from her pocket, burst the band which held it, and the letters were scattered on her dressing-table. she took up one, opened it, and read, in what appeared to be her own handwriting—

be not so hasty, my dear friend. i must break the news gently to my beloved mother, who cannot bear the thought of parting with me. our behaviour in public must not alter, but be sure i adore you. a thousand greetings from madeline.

again—

be cautious in your behaviour, and above all try to please the vicomte, my cousin. do anything he wishes you—it will come all right in the end. he has a stupid love of play—indulge him; if he wins from you he shall be made afterwards to restore.

madeline read the letters over and over again. she picked up several others, and found them all to be in the same tone—protestations of love for the marquis and prayers to him not to offend monsieur belleisle, of whom, she avowed, she stood in the greatest fear—and the forgeries were so good as almost to deceive herself.

the past was all clear to her now—she knew what she had done and what she was; she recognised the true worth of the man she had married, and of the woman who called herself her friend.

what should she do? whither should she go? for the first time in her life she could understand the feeling which prompted wretched outcast women to stand upon the parapet of a bridge and cast their miserable bodies into the depths of the blackened river; at least their woes would be ended—their weary bodies be at rest. she felt that such a death would be acceptable to her that night. oh, if she could only leap into the darkness, and end it all!

she gathered up the letters, which still lay upon her table, threw off her bonnet, which lay like a weight upon her head, and opened her door. it was still early enough for belleisle to be up. she would see him, speak to him; she could not wait another hour, with that newly acquired knowledge on he mind.

with this idea she left her chamber, looked first into one room, then another—and was about to return to her own in despair, when she was arrested by the sound of voices, which she recognised as those of her husband and madame de fontenay. she paused and listened. the pair were closeted in madame de fontenay’s private room, and their conversation was of an exciting nature.

madeline soon heard her own name.

‘emile, you are a fool,’ says madame de fontenay; ‘why he stays away i know not. i only know that one little note from madeline will bring him back again.’

‘and if he comes?’

‘if he comes, mon ami, you can win from him a few more hundreds, and then make a quarrel, refuse to give him the little one’s hand, and rid yourself of him for ever.’

for a time they were silent, or spoke in undertones. madeline was about to open the door and break up their converse, when the widow raised her voice and spoke again.

‘you are a fool,’ she said hotly, ‘and although i advise you well, you, by your bungling, upset all my plans. did i not advise you to provide for the future by entering a good school, and marrying, either by fair means or foul, the richest girl that the rich school contained? yes. but you, like a fool, ran off with the poorest, and did your very best to ensure your own ruin.’

‘i did not know that the girl was poor.’

‘did not know! it was your duty, my friend, to ascertain that she was rich. well, we need not complain now. thanks to me again, the silly girl has been useful to you, and will be so again. listen, then——’

but madeline, trembling outside, could bear it no longer; she turned the handle of the door, and entered the room.

she still wore her walking dress; her face was white as death, her hands trembling and cold; while her fingers closed nervously around the packet of letters which she held.

madame de fontenay, who believed that her dupe was quietly sleeping, gave a little scream; belleisle started to his feet.

‘madeline, diable! what brings you here?’ he exclaimed, thrown off his guard.

for a moment madeline did not answer him. she stood apparently calm and collected, but with a face whiter than that of the dead, fixing her large blue eyes upon first one and then another of the faces before her.

‘you are a villain!’ she said at length, walking steadily up to monsieur belleisle; ‘you have tried by cruel, cold-blooded falsehood to compass my ruin; you have nearly succeeded, but, thank god, i have found you out at last.’

livid with rage, and completely taken off his guard, belleisle stood with clenched fists, as if ready to strike his victim.

madame de fontenay stepped forward to restrain him, but madeline stood her ground.

‘do not think to frighten me,’ she said; ‘those days are past, monsieur belleisle; though you were fifty times my husband, you shall be punished for all that you have done to me.’

‘madeline, my love, be reasonable,’ said madame de fontenay, ‘you are under some misapprehension—let me explain!’

‘let you explain, madame! you did that admirably to monsieur belleisle before i entered the room. i know that you are the cause of all this evil; i know it is through your wicked prompting that monsieur belleisle has been induced to make me what i am; i know that you have plotted together to bring about the ruin of a poor girl who never did you harm. with regard to you i am powerless, but upon that man, if there is any justice in the world, i will be revenged.’

by this time belleisle had partly recovered his composure. he walked up to the angry girl, and asked quietly—

‘how will you be revenged? tell me that!’

‘i will prosecute you for forgery; you wrote these letters to the marquis de vaux; you forged mr. white’s writing, and sent a letter to me; he shall prosecute you too.’

monsieur belleisle turned whiter still.

‘it would be a new sensation in court,’ he said; ‘a young english girl prosecuting her french paramour. it would give you notoriety doubtless, mademoiselle.’

‘what do you mean?——’

‘what i say—you are not my wife, thank god. i was by no means such a fool as you think, mademoiselle. i went through a mock ceremony with you—thinking i would have a real one if i found your fortune was worth the sacrifice. i found it was not; therefore i have pleasure in informing you that you are free.—after all, there is not very much harm done, mademoiselle, and it may give you pleasure to know that by gracing my table with your presence, and smiling upon my guests, you have been the means of bringing some money to me. no one but my good aunt knows that you have been my mistress—and with her i am sure your secret is safe.’

still madeline was silent; so, after a pause, belleisle continued.

‘now that i have explained you will perceive, i am sure, the necessity for silence. if you dare to make a scene i shall tell the whole story, and i will bring dozens of witnesses to prove that you played very willingly into my hands. if you are silent, i too will be silent. you can go to england, marry an englishman, and become a model english wife——’

the frenchman paused, for madeline, uttering a low moan, at last sank swooning upon the floor.