THE LADY’S SECRET.

“Upon her face there was the tint of grief, The settled shadow of an inward strife, And an unquiet drooping of the eye As if its lids were charged with unshed tears.” --BYRON.

Earle Essex catches at Madame Orne’s words as a loop-hole of escape. After all, his plans may not be frustrated.

With drooping head and a voice of ineffable sadness, he answers:

“It is only too true, madam. I love Miss Leigh, and in the madness of my jealously and despair, I was tempted to destroy the letter that would recall my hated rival. Oh, madam, pity me!”

In the bright moonlight her lip curls with a smile of contempt.

“I could find it in my heart to pity you if your love were a manly one, but you have proved its poor quality by this baseness. Will you assure me that you have not tampered with the seal, sir?” taking the letter from the desk, and scrutinizing it keenly.

But he has done his work so cleverly that there is no sign of treachery.

“Madam, I am not capable of such villainy!” drawing his form proudly erect.

“Where we detect small villainies, Mr. Essex, we naturally suspect greater ones. If you repent of the evil you just now contemplated, and from which my entrance just now deterred you, prove it by removing yourself out of temptation’s way. Leave this house to-morrow, and seek in other scenes forgetfulness of the fair girl who never can be yours.”

His dark eyes flash with swift emotion, and he answers resentfully:

“Your pardon, madam, but I decline your dictation in my personal affairs. I do not choose to leave a clear field to my hated rival!”

For a moment she is staggered by his assurance. Then she turns to leave the room, saying coldly:

“Your continued presence, however, may be unwelcome, after I relate the