what a fool I was to think Mrs. Stanton, who sold herself for money, would give it up for me!' Captain Hume turned moodily away.

This was more than Blanche could bear. She had resolved to do right, and struggled and battled with her love, with her passionate longing to do as he asked-to go with him far away, anywhere, so that she went with him. It was all in vain; vain the good resolutions, vain the hard-fought battle; these last words of Hume's stung her to the quick-for him to think she cared for wealth, for anything more than him!

Blanche sprang from her seat, clasped both her hands round Willie's arm, her face crimson with excitement and passionate love, exclaiming wildly,

'I don't care how wicked it is, I don't care for anything! I'll go anywhere with you-to India, to the world's end, anywhere!'

Deep sobs shook her whole frame as Hume clasped his arms round her with vehement thanks and protestations of affection; yet a cold chill struck to his careless irreverent heart, as a whisper in low awestruck tones glided into his ear: Ah, Willie, it isn't Brassil I shall lose for your sake, it's heaven!' And though he protested and argued, she repeated over and over again,

'I shall never go to heaven, I am too wicked; but O, my darling, I had rather be lost with you than saved without you.'

Hume hardly appreciated all this; his was a light careless nature, full of fiery evanescent passion, but incapable of deep or lasting feeling; the love he bore Blanche Hardwicke was decidedly the strongest passion of his nature. When, on returning from India to ask her to be his wife, he found her married to Stanton, his fierce anger, wounded love, and baffled passion knew no bounds, and he accepted Blanche's invitation to Brassil Court, savagely resolving to show how little he cared, to show how he despised the Stantons in general, and Blanche in particular; but when he saw her again, the very moment she held out her hand and welcomed him to Brassil, back came the old love with double force. He resolved, happen what might, he would win her back-win back the love he had always believed she felt for him, and him alone-the love that he was certain was his still; and ere Captain Hume had been three weeks at Brassil, he stood in Blanche's morning-room, and drew from her a promise to run away with him,-to leave home and friends, to cast behind her the world's opinion, to abandon a doting husband, and, worse than all, every thought of goodness and purity and religion, every hope of heaven. Ah, Willie Hume exulted, and the devil and his angels shouted for joy, as that wicked promise was given; but holy guardian spirits wept and wailed, and Blanche Stanton shuddered as across her brain came a vision of awful judgment and just condemnation, and the horrors of that hell to which she was hurrying so fast.

When Blanche's agitation subsided, Hume began to talk of arrangements, and inquired when Mr. Stanton was expected back, the money-lender having gone the evening before to London on business.

Mrs. Stanton replied, 'The day after to-morrow, in time for dinner.'

'Then,' resumed Hume, we needn't leave Brassil till the same morning, that will give more time to make arrangements. We'll go to London by the early train, and on to Dover by the night express; we shall be in Paris the next morning in time for breakfast. So if Stanton should do such an idiotic thing as to try to follow, we shall be safe in Paris long before he can get even to Dover. I'll run up to town to-night, and be down again at Farchester to-morrow, and sleep at "The George ;" and so meet you at the station next morning. I'll send a telegram in Stanton's name to ask you to meet him in London the next day, so it will make no row when you drive to the Farchester station. Shall you take your maid? Unless you're particularly fond of her, don't; I'll get you a fresh one, and she shall meet us in town. And,' here Hume's face crimsoned, and he dropped his voice, I say, my pet, don't bring a whole heap of things; don't take anything of Stanton's—that he has given you, I mean-jewels or anything of that kind. I'll give you whatever you like; but I should hate to see you wear anything of his.' Before she could reply he went on hurriedly, There, I think that's all; now I must go;' he stooped down, putting his arm round her. 'Good-bye, my darling; farewell for the last time. We shall never have to part again after Thursday. Good-bye.' He walked to the door, closed it softly after him, and Blanche heard his firm step echoing along the corridor.

Mrs. Stanton joined her guests at luncheon, and though she said she had a headache and her eyes looked red, she was as amusing and brilliant as ever. Not one of the numerous party could divine what wild, miserable, sinful thoughts were chasing each other through the brain of the hostess, who seemed so happy and gay and agreeable, such a capital mistress of the house, so kind and thoughtful for her guests. Yes, all through that day Blanche went about as usual; never till she wished the last of the party good-night at the foot of the great staircase did she give herself one moment for rest or thought. But that night, as Blanche Stanton lay in her bed, she dreamed a gruesome dream.

Blanche and Willie Hume walked side by side. They came to a steep mountain, and climbed up and up till they stood on the topmost crag; below them stretched two plains—one a vast expanse of sandy waste, with not a single living moving creature on it; the other, a green verdant meadow peopled with thousands and thousands of bright beautiful angels, and upwards came strains of exquisite melody