"Then I do."
"That's right. Now go home."
She put her finger again upon her lips, and motioned him to listen.
The gentle creak of retiring footsteps stealing away was then distinctly heard. As they ceased, she said,—
"That was my husband. He has overheard us. But fortunately he heard nothing which I cannot explain. Leave him to me."
Marmaduke went home in a state of fever, torn by the most vehement emotions, and seeing all darkly before him.
CHAPTER VII.
FATHER AND CHILD.
Meredith Vyner stole back to his study, after having overheard a portion of the foregoing scene, like one who has just received a sentence of death. He loved his wife with the unreasoning idolatry of one who has centred all his affections on a single object. His children had been gradually estranged from him, his wife had taken their place in his heart, and now she was listening to the vows of another!
What he had heard was enough to make him fear the worst. Her refusal to listen to Marmaduke, and her offer of a purely sisterly regard, although it assured him that at present she was resolved not to forget her duty, gave him no assurance that such prudence would long continue. Could she restrict herself to that sisterly love? Could she know that one so young, so handsome, so imposing, loved her, and not at last yield to his love?