'I repeat, Monsieur Martin, you whose life has been so pure and blameless--have I not heard of it from your mother? have I not watched it for some time myself?--can feel true Christian pity for this girl so cruelly betrayed. You are right, too, in keeping the mere fact of her existence secret from Madame Calverley. She would be furious, that good lady, and not without cause. She would be furious; and when she is furious she loses her head, and would bring trouble and scandal upon the family. Do you know what I have been thinking about during our walk, Monsieur Martin? I have been thinking that you will require my assistance in this matter.'

'Your assistance, Madame Du Tertre?'

'Mine, Monsieur Martin. You who can see things so clearly will not require to be told that I have great influence with Madame Calverley; that influence shall be exercised in your behalf. I will enter into a compact with you to help you in aiding this unhappy woman, of whom you take so compassionate a view, by every means in my power, provided you do not interfere with any plans of mine as regards your mother.'

'I--I must first know what those plans are before I can agree to your proposition, madame,' said Martin, with hesitation.

'Are you in a position to make terms?' asked Pauline, with a short, hard laugh. 'I do not know myself what those plans are at
present--nothing to hurt you or any one, you may be sure; but you see I am in possession of your secret, and can work for or against you as I choose. There, don't look so scared, Monsieur Martin; I meant no harm. You will find me a trusty ally; a woman can do more in these cases than any man, however well-intentioned; and we may perhaps keep the truth of her real position from this poor creature for a time. And whenever it must be told, you may depend upon it I should break it to her better than you would.'

Martin glanced hurriedly at her as he comprehended the full force of what she said--as the exact position in which they stood to each other dawned upon him. He had been taken unawares, when his nervous system, always highly strung, was at its extreme point of tension after the interview with Alice, and scarce thinking what he was saying, he blurted out the secret which should never have passed his lips, and the revelation of which involved such dire consequences. What would Humphrey Statham say when he knew what had happened, as know it he must? He, cool, far-seeing, and methodical, would be sure to reproach his friend with having acted on headstrong impulse. Martin blamed his own rashness; but what was said could not be unsaid. Madame Du Tertre, as she had remarked, was in possession of the facts, and the only way to treat her now was to make her a friend instead of an enemy, and to give in to her as far as was compatible with the plan already laid. down. Her tendency was at present undoubtedly amiable, Martin thought, and it was best to encourage that spirit. He knew that in her assertion of her power over Mrs. Calverley she spoke truth, and it was all-important that that power should be exercised in their favour. His mother was splenetic and stubborn; once raised to a sense of her injuries, she would leave nothing undone to sweep this wretched woman from her path, and to crush her altogether. For Alice's sake, it was most important that the knowledge of her real position should be withheld from her as long as possible, and that when the announcement had to be made, it should be made with due delicacy. He had been wrong in taking any outsider into his confidence, but under existing circumstances it was clear that Madame Du Tertre should be won over to their side, and treated with the respect which she seemed inclined to exact.

So, his mind filled with these thoughts, Martin Gurwood turned
to her and said: 'You are perfectly right, Madame Du Tertre; your
co-operation will be most valuable to me; and as to the terms which you propose, I am quite willing to accept them, recognising the rectitude of the principles by which you are governed.'

Recollecting his warlike declaration at the commencement of their interview, Pauline was more than half inclined to smile at this utterance, but she checked herself, and said: 'Then it is understood, Monsieur Martin, that our alliance commences from this moment. To prove my interest in it, I should be glad if you would tell me what immediate steps you propose taking in reference to this poor lady. Very much will depend upon your present action; and I am anxious to know what it is.'

'Well,' replied Martin, rather taken aback by her prompt decision, 'the fact is that you will probably be called upon to exert your powers of diplomacy at once.'

'Such powers,' said Pauline, 'unless ready on an emergency, are but little worth. This poor creature does not know her position; under what circumstances have you left her?'