from the others was preserved if wished, there was no reason for Laura to fear any awkward meeting. Ernestine gave her full credit for taking every precaution and as one of the first precautions would be to ascertain whether the names of all the doctors on the prospectus of the hospital were unknown to her, Ernestine concluded that either Laura, before her entrance, had never heard her name, or—as was the case-that Dr. Doldy had suppressed the fact that she was a doctor. On that occasion when he let fall upon Laura the thunderbolt of his impending marriage, if he had let slip, as he very nearly did, the " "Dr. Vavasour, Laura

would have been forewarned.

But, as it happened, she had never dreamed of connecting the Dr. Vavasour of the hospital with the Miss Vavasour of her uncle's choice. Laura had always regarded the lady doctor as a working woman-an unfortunate person compelled to earn her own living. And to a mind of such calibre as hers, so impassable a gulf is fixed between the lady of social position and the woman-of whatever sort-who works for her bread, that the name Vavasour, uncommon though it may be, did not seem to her as the same name, in the two connections. The Miss Vavasour of Dr. Doldy's choice had a certain interest for her, the Dr. Vavasour of the hospital prospectus, none whatever. When first Mrs. Marland brought Ernestine to her, to see an unmistakable lady had given her a sort of nervous shock-which she attributed to her sensitive state; and subsequent happenings were not of a nature to lead her to speculate upon names. Ernestine did not know her well enough to understand all this, but she could guess something of how she had

been unknowingly brought into such immediate contact with her.

But, as she remembered how Mrs. Aylmer's home troubles and privations had been delicately pictured to her in the course of her intimate attendance upon her patient, she felt that no statement of Laura's was to be trusted.

Were Dr. Doldy's happiness and prosperity in Laura's hands, and dependent upon the retaining of her disgraceful secret? No, she said boldly to herself, she did not believe it. Laura had but created a nightmare to terrify and silence her; she would not be silenced by it. She would not be rash in action, but she resolved to extract the real truth from Laura, by dint of threatening her with immediate exposure.

Should she go to her that very night? She paused in her walk up and down her little room and looked at her watch. It was already late. Laura was staying with her aunt; would it be possible to see her alone without

exciting suspicions? She was fearful of taking any unusual steps in the darkness; Laura's warnings might not have been wholly baseless. Besides, said she to herself, proudly-"Why to-night? No secret of that woman's can make any difference in my relations with Dr. Doldy. I am pledged to him, not to his connections." She felt that it would be like an insult to him to act as though any deed of Laura's could make a difference in the fulfilment of her marriage; and this idea did much to quiet her. She pacified herself by a resolution that as on the morrow, at the wedding, they must meet, on the morrow she would prevent Laura's again evading her; she would make an opportunity to obtain from her the truth of her assertions.

Having come to this resolve she

was able to sleep; but she awoke in the gray early morning, cold and trembling. Wonderingly her spirit became conscious of a weight upon it, and in the first instant of recall seemed to take up the burden with difficulty, unable all at once to realise what it was. But, that instant over, all the memory of the events of the previous day returned to her.

She lay, still, pale, and thoughtful, until the dawn had merged into broad light and the house was astir. Then she arose, with a look upon her face that would rather have been suitable to an Amazon called to battle than to the heroine of a wedding day.

The consequence was that she was told at breakfast that she "positively must not look as if she were going to be executed." Her cousins had long ago arrogated the right to tease her; they belonged to that gay, goodhumoured, generous type of girlhood with which it is as difficult to be angry as it is to resent the frolics of a kitten.

They succeeded in making Ernestine laugh at herself and her stern looks, but they could not wholly chase away the mood. It is common talk that a wedding is more tearful than a funeral. She relapsed whenever she was left alone. Certainly she would never have been dressed in time for church had not all the other women in the house taken greater interest in her weddingrobe than she did herself. As might be expected, however, their interest in it was absorbing. Not one of them besides herself had discovered anything much more important in life than successful dressing.

a

Ernestine thus gained time for her thoughts, for she had only to be patient under the ministrations of many willing hands.

“There,” said Mrs. Vavasour, triumphantly, as they all stood ready to enter the carriages, "my party is in time, and I know Dr. Doldy will be in time, but somebody always must be late, and I expect it will be Mr. Silburn."

Mrs. Vavasour not only used italics freely in her letters but in her speech. Ernestine smiled as she entered the carriage with her bridesmaids. She wondered much what unusual thing Coventry Silburn would do before the morning was Over. She feared that he could scarcely remain so long in Mrs. Vavasour's presence without shocking her. For he filled an important post-he was to give away the bride.

She glanced round the church as they entered, to see who was there; Dr. Doldy she saw at once, without seeing him, so to speak, or seeming to use her eyes, and immediately discovered also that positively Coventry Silburn was before them: dressed with the utmost propriety and looking deeply dejected. He was evidently conscious that Dorothy, though she was very quiet in a secluded corner, had her eye upon him.

Common-place people can generally carry through a ceremony successfully, but the unhappy folk who are gifted with genius, or even but tinged with it, seem overpowered by the responsibilities of such an occasion, and as a rule make themselves conspicuous by some unintentional absurdity. Dorothy was well aware of this, and had lectured her husband so thoroughly on the need of keeping himself awake to the small proprieties that he was quite crushed by the sense of his position.

Ernestine, after her first glance, which had only assured her of Coventry's presence, had done her best to abstract her mind from

everything but the matter in hand. She would not look round again lest she should see Laura: as indeed she would have done, for Laura and Mrs. Honiton were

very near her. She resolutely put away the thought of Laura for the moment, and held herself in her own dreamland. It was not difficult to do so, with Coventry Silburn on one side of her and Dr. Doldy on the other-the two men who had done the most, in such different ways, to shew her the realities of dreamland. Coventry succeeded, by dint of keeping his mind fixed upon it, in giving the bride away correctly, and the more strictly official persons, being accustomed to their work, accomplished it with less difficulty.

"You good boy," said Dorothy, when they were finding their way out to the carriages, "it did my heart good to see you behaving so well."

"Thank the Gods it is overnot for myself only, but for their sakes. My spirits are rising now -I am beginning to feel exuberant! I shall scarcely require champagne."

our

"Well, don't horrify hostess, that's all," whispered Dorothy, sagely.

group. Not far off was Laura, who looked as bright and happy as a pretty woman ought to look. But a pause came at last in her gay gossip and laughter. She stood for a moment alone, languidly fanning herself.

Ernestine rose at once and joined her.

"Come with me into the fernery," she said, "it is quiet there, and cool."

Laura followed her without a word. She drew back a curtain which half hid an alcove at the side of the room and led the way into a very pleasant little fernery, where ever-dropping water made the air seem cool. The curtain fell behind them and again concealed the alcove. Ernestine moved to the farther side, and drew a couple of chairs into a quiet corner.

They sat down. Laura went on fanning herself, and for a moment there was silence.

Laura was quite collected and prepared for the encounter; and while Ernestine paused, she leaned back in her chair and said to herself that the scene was very effective.

"Her style is good," she thought, looking at Ernestine. "She has brought us face to face very neatly and without any fuss. She understands generalship so well that I shall certainly try to win her over rather than make an open enemy of her. She will be my ally in any case; but I would rather she were a friendly one. She is abominably handsome, especially in that white drapery. And she has some charm about her which makes her beauty so royal. I wonder what that charm is? Surely I can find out?"

Laura set herself so intently to observing Ernestine's face, and was so absorbed in her particular interest in it, that she seemed not

"I cannot undertake to keep your secret from Dr. Doldy; at the same time, I do not wish to prevent your telling the story in your own fashion. Will you do it now, or will you write to him?"

The words took a long time in penetrating to Laura's intelligence; indeed, they seemed at first to have fallen on a deaf ear. For, as Ernestine looked up and spoke, Laura, whose shrewd eyes were still intently bent upon her, thought she saw in the expression of the face as it was uplifted to hers something of the mystery of that charm which had perplexed her. She had some glimmer of an understanding that the especial momentary beauty of the moving face was its unconsciousness.

.. It is not to be supposed," thought Laura, "that she doesn't know she is handsome, but she is not thinking of it at this moment evidently. Dear me, how singular -it would be a difficult art to attain, I'm afraid."

All this, and more, passed through Laura's versatile brain before Ernestine's words reached it. Ernestine's eyes were fixed upon her now, and she saw Laura's change of expression when the words made themselves heard to her internal ear. It was but a slight change-yet it helped to make Ernestine's disbelief in her deeper.

You will not betray me?" said Laura, very low, with fluttering, down-drooping eyelids.

Ernestine made no reply, but only drew back a little-a very little.

only. I want to prevent the distress which would come upon others as well as upon myself. And why," she went on, with a suddenly impassioned gesture, "why should you betray me? Look at my position-look at the society I am surrounded by and, think of the intolerableness of an exposure. You know, as well as I, how bitterly a woman is punished for her sins-you know, as well as I, what your betrayal must subject me to. No; look into your own heart, think what must be suffered by a woman in my position even if she is allowed to keep her misery in the silence of her own soul. You are entering upon a union of love and happiness; you see me a being stranded alone, after enduring the torture of love and of loss. Have some pity for me do not, strong in your own promise of a happy future, condemn unpityingly one who has left left happiness behind. Have some pity-and give me but a little of that sympathy which has as yet been utterly denied melet me tell you all my history. You can scarcely refuse me a little sympathy if you hear all.”

Ernestine had put her hand over her eyes while Laura spoke; her mind was confused by such an appeal as this. She knew well that justice must hear all: and for a moment she fancied she might have before her one of those women who are driven against their better nature into deceit by the demand made on them by society for the preservation of appearances—and appearances only.

Laura touched her dress slightly, leaning forward as she spoke: and Ernestine looked towards her. She looked in Laura's face and

suddenly there rose before her vision innocent little Mrs. Aylmer and she remembered the dexterous

art with which the doctor's sympathies were evoked. She rose to her feet and moved away a little.

"No," she said, "I have already heard one history of yours. You cannot expect me to listen to another."

"You do not know-you can never guess how hardly I was driven into all that," said Laura, a little below her breath.

"Perhaps not," said Ernestine, with a sigh, "but you cannot expect me to trust you after the experience. And you forget that I have no wish to expose you to the society you move in. I only ask you to tell the whole matter to Dr. Doldy."

"Last of all," cried Laura, "to him."

"And why?" asked Ernestine, turning on her.

"I could not bear it," said Laura, with downcast eyes and that peculiar change of expression when she spoke which convinced Ernestine that her speech was only a blind to hide her thought.

"Well," she said, "I will not undertake to hide it from him."

"But you must," said Laura, with a resumption of her more cool and collected manner, and as she spoke, again commencing to fan herself "you must,-you will never betray a medical confidence! Why, I suppose my uncle has dozens of such matters in his knowledge. What would be the use of a doctor who did not understand that silence about his patients' affairs is a matter of professional etiquette and a most important one! But, of course, this is just the kind of thing which will make it difficult for women to keep a footing in the professions."

Now this was insolent: and Laura clenched her little teeth with delight as she said it. had no apparent effect upon

But it

Ernestine, who was standing with knit brow, in deep thought. It had some real effect, however. She knew well enough that she had no right over Laura's secret. Her only present power over Laura lay in the fact that she had made no promise to keep it. And now Laura presented to her something which in a sense corresponded to a bond.

She said nothing for a few moments, while her mind reviewed the whole affair, or at least, as much as she knew of it. At last she raised her head with a sudden action which made Laura think of a high-spirited horse fretting under the curb.

"I cannot breathe in this network of deceit," she exclaimed.

"I am sorry for that," said Laura, "for I am afraid you will have to try. I think you cannot but see the inexpediency of revealing any of my affairs to my uncle. It will, as I said before, only bring a great and unnecessary distress upon him. He would only have the burden of a secret which he need not have, if you are wise."

"I wish," said Ernestine, moving to her chair and sitting down wearily, "you could be more open. Why cannot you tell me all the truth?"

Laura shrugged her shoulders. "You would not listen to my tale just now."

"No," said Ernestine, a little sternly, "but I will listen if you will explain the vague hints which you let fall yesterday. You in sinuated that the preservation of this secret would affect Dr. Doldy otherwise than by causing him distress."

"And so it would," replied Laura, "and if you could take my advice you would ask no questions and keep your own counsel."

"That I cannot do," answered Ernestine, "I will venture upon