"Forgive me!" whispered the sick girl at length. "I said, a moment ago, that you were cold and skeptical. I said cruel things, for which I am very sorry. You do believe in my talent as a writer, don't you?"

"Of course I do, my darling

"I am very, very tired," said Blanche, "but there is something here that makes me so happy," placing one hand over her heart, "and my fever is all gone. Did you enjoy yourself at Maplehurst? I read a full account of the ball in the papers, and they described your toilet. You must have looked beautiful !"

CHAPTER XXIV

HER STRATAGEM

For her own breakfast she'll project a scheme,
Nor take her tea without a stratagem.

-Young.

EANWHILE Sir Philip Camden had been basking in the light of Dorian Rossmore's eyes, forgetful of all save the mad infatuation which they engendered, and the knowledge that she still wore his talisman.

Yes, that hoop of glittering diamonds, with the single emerald shining out like a venomous eye, and it alone had flashed from the soft fairness of his hostess' hand last night, and whatever true sentiments breathed in the breast of the beautiful creole toward himself, Sir Philip had been supremely unconscious of all save the fact that he viewed her standing on the stepping stones of his one ambition, and looking at him with her glorious eyes full of a fire which he flattered himself was love!

He did not dream what dangerous poison lurked beneath the fascination of those eyes!

A famous tenor of the day composed one of Mrs. Rossmore's guests, and as he was about to

favor the eager assemblage with some choice selections, Dorian managed, by one of her graceful manoeuvers, to sit near Sir Philip, who leaned against the door casement, apart from that portion of the room where most of the guests had collected. At a signal from his hostess, showing that she was aware of his proximity, he approached and took up his station at her elbow.

The prelude was ended; and now the rich, soul-stirring notes of the songster were filling the room, except for which sound that silence reigned which is so eloquent of profound and undivided interest; thus it was with difficulty that Sir Philip contrived presently to whisper to his fair neighhor, who was bending forward with ecstatic ear, for the moment, forgetful of all save that powerful, magnetic voice:

"Dorian, the evening is more than half spent, and I have had scarcely a word alone with you. Cannot you manage to slip away presently to the conservatory, where we can have an uninterrupted, if brief, tete-a-tete?"

She evinced no sign of having heard him; nevertheless, when the Signor had finished his measure, and all were crowding round him, clamoring for another song, Mrs. Rossmore did "manage," and that very adroitly, to disappear; and in the midst of the distraction, none saw her go, save Sir Philip, who also, as the clapping of hands and babble of voices continued, vanished as if by magic.

The cloisters, toward which he crept stealthily, were almost in utter darkness. They had been brilliant with colored lights half an hour ago, and rightly Sir Philip guessed that his enchantress had invented the darkness as a safeguard against the exposure of their tryst, which certainly was hazardous.

Vaguely, as he entered there, he defined her tall form, standing half merged in the shadow of an oleander tree. With a quick bound he was beside her, and she shrunk not from his arm as it engirdled her waist, but greeted him with a warmth of pretty words, and listened with seeming eagerness to the words of mad infatuation which he poured into her ear-words which made her secretly think him more of a real Arbaces than he had seemed in the tableau at Maplehurst.

"How is Lady Camden, to-night?" she asked, when he had released her, and they were seated under the oleander tree. "Why is she not here?"

"I do not know," returned Sir Philip. "Why do you choose to remind me at this supreme moment, of her existence ?"

"She is one of the stern realities of life-a reality in which I am mostly interested. Do you know what people are saying?" asked Dorian, abruptly.

"No," answered Sir Philip with laconic indiff

erence.

"It is rumored that your modern Glaucus

rescued her from a pair of mad runaway horses some weeks before the ball. It seems she had not been aware of her preserver's identity until fate brought them again face to face on that night. One who watched the introduction pass between them had also been an eye-witness to the runaway. He had seen young Volney rush into the street and stay the beasts, then assist Lady Camden, who was all but swooning, from the coupé and lead her into an apothecary's shop. He, my authority, says that Lady Camden was greatly agitated upon being introduced to him. This makes it easy to divine why she did not want to take the part of Galatea with his Pygmalion, and yet the easier to interpret the cause of her emotion in the Pompeian tableau."

As to that," said Sir Philip, "upon the night of the ball I perceived her sentiments toward Volney."

"You did!" exclaimed Dorian Rossmore, quickly, "and you told me you had merely created the tableau of Glaucus and Ione for your wife's gratification! I knew there was some hidden meaning to your ruse. I knew you wilfully designed to tyrannize over her !"

Sir Philip shrugged his shoulders.

"It was monstrous! I despise such duplicity!" averred Dorian, passionately.

Sir Philip laughed deprecatingly, then seeing the angry fire that flashed from her dark eyes