She flared out recklessly with passion.

'He does sanction it-ask him.'

Ursula glanced at the corner of the cab, where the old man sat white and shivering. With that glance came back all he had told her, all the peril he was in; and she too began to tremble with the fear that stole over her.

'You force him to consent; he never would do so of his own accord.'

'I fancy he has done very little of his own will for many a day,' was the cool reply. However, that is nothing to me; I do not care to seek for motives when facts suffice.'

'But his consent or sanction does not force me!' Ursula said scornfully, her courage raising its

crest once more.

'Your own promise does.'

'I revoke it; I never gave you a promise in earnest. I never, never in my heart meant to marry you. Why should I? You are oldever so much older than I amold as father is; and you are not handsome. I don't love you, and I don't care for your wealth. Now, Mr. Lock, is not all that enough ?'

'Not quite,' he answered, biting his lips hard to keep down the anger that swelled up in his breast. Anger and mortification, desperately wounded self-love and vanity, all struggled together within him, and made him a thousand times more determined to marry the girl and break her insolent spirit.

'Not quite?' she questioned in surprise. 'Pray, can I speak plainer than I have done?'

It was difficult to bear the insolent ring of her voice, and difficult to stand the contemptuous curl of her red lip, and the scorn of the black eyes that looked him

mockery in their depths.

'I came here to make you my wife,' he averred quietly; and I mean to do it.

'But I cannot and I will not be your wife!'

Nonsense, child; you are angry now, but you will be sorry for your words some day. This trifling is, however, really perilous to your father; and he ought to teach you better than to let your passion overstep your discretion.'

'I know all you mean to hint. Father has told me everything, and for his sake I would marry you I could; but it is not possible.'

if

'It is both possible and certain that you will be my wife before the sun sets to-day, or your father will be lodged to-night in prison. Choose your course now!'

The girl looked at her father. 'Is there no one-no one to help us!' she cried bitterly.

Pierce turned away his head in gloomy silence; his heart felt as though it were turning to stone.

'Oh, what shall I do? what can I do?'

The words broke from her in a wail, the glowing colour faded from her face, the light seemed suddenly quenched in her eyes. Pierce, aroused by her cry, bent forward, a hectic spot burning on his cheek.

'Have you no mercy-not a gleam of pity for her?' he asked, with more spirit than he had yet shown. 'The poor child loves another man-a young, handsome, honest man, who would make her a good and happy woman; whilst you-you-'

sneer.

'Love him, does she?' John Lock interrupted, with an evil 'Her conduct to me does not warrant your assertion; or-I beg your pardon, my old friend, but you have brought your daughter up badly. This is of little

consequence, however; for the man to whom, I conclude, you referred is out of my way, and out of the world. If you took the trouble to study the newspapers, you would not have required to be told it by

me.'

Ursula gripped hold of his arm with her shaking fingers; her white face was close to his; her lips were parted in wild terror.

'What do you mean ?'

'And so you really loved the man, my pretty Ursula, though you denied it so stoutly. It almost pains me to give you the news; but there was a railway accident, and Bernard Keane was picked out-dead.

The girl grasped his arm tighter, tight enough to cause him to

wince.

'O my God, can this thing be true?'

He had no pity for the anguish in that face; no compassion for the strained nerves, which for the moment seemed made of steel, but took a newspaper from his pocket.

'Read for yourself,' he said coldly; 'you might not believe me.' Ursula could not read; the paper shook in her hand; the printing all seemed blurred, and the letters ran one into the other.

'Father, can you read ?' she called out in her misery. true; oh, is it true ?'

Is it

Ralph Pierce took the paper, and read in it an extract from another journal. Amongst the list of killed Bernard Keane's name appeared. He dropped the paper, and looked at Ursula. She had given no sign of grief; not even a sob broke from her lips, but, white and rigid as death itself, she fell forward into the old man's arms.

A face looked in at the cab window.

'He is at home, and ready, sir.'

Have you

'My child is ill. tortured her enough? Can I take her home?' asked Pierce sternly.

'It is not I that have tortured her, Pierce. You know well enough that I would do anything to save the girl a moment's sorrow. Be reasonable. You were attempting to cheat me, and I checkmated you, that is all.'

'No, it is not all; you have nearly killed this girl, and, more than that, I solemnly believe you have had a hand in Bernard Keane's death. No one who crosses your path escapes evil.'

John Lock laughed out. It might have been in derision of the charge which Pierce had brought against him, or that he accepted it as a triumphant fact.

The laugh, loud and harsh, sent a shiver through the half unconscious girl, who till that moment had rested like a dead creature in her father's arms. Her father's words had aroused her from her stupor. That scornful answering laugh kindled all her returning life into rage, silent and bitter as death; a hot red colour flushed in and out of her face, making it glow like living fire one instant, and leaving it like ashes the next. The conviction that the man beside her had had a hand in her husband's death fastened upon her from that hour.

'Are you better, Ursula ?' Lock asked, in a low soft voice.

'Better! Oh, yes, I am much better, thank you,' she answered, in a tone so hoarse and changed that it filled him with doubt.

'Then why not let us go in here, as I had arranged? The parson is ready. Your father willing, I know. You shall never repent it, Ursula; for I love you madly.'

Pierce, whose arm was still round her, felt her shiver at the last words, as if a cold blast were sweeping by; but she did not speak.

'Listen to me, Ursula. If I have any power over your father, such as he has told you of, it will end the moment you become my wife.' Again a chill blast appeared to pass over the girl. She leant close to her father, and whispered, 'Is it true? Would it save you from him ?'

'Yes, if he will swear and keep his oath,' was the faint reply. John Lock heard it.

'I will swear, Ursula, and keep my oath.'

She looked vacantly through the window, and spoke like a woman in a trance.

'Swear, then.'

Pierce held his breath; he had no faith in the man's oaths, but he believed that he would not give up the father of his wife to die in a felon's cell. Then he remembered his child, and interfered.

'Ursula, don't, don't!'
'Father, I will!

'But take a little time; the news has driven you mad.'

'Then I am surely more fit for this work! Yes, I am mad! And you-have you the courage to marry me?' she asked, in a low concentrated voice that was quite unlike her usual accents.

'Have I the courage to marry you, Ursula? Yes, if I had to pass through an army of devils to reach the altar !'

'When you know that I hate you; that I loathe myself for having accepted your gifts, or listened to you for a moment; that I look upon you as—as—'

'Only look upon me as your future husband, as a man who adores you, and who will make you love him; for you will love me as I love you, my beautiful bad Ursula.'

me so.

When I saw you attempting to escape me, that was the only power I had to hold you back. I am his friend when you are my wife; his interests will be mine. I shall befriend him as his own son.'

'I will marry you to save him,' said the girl through her set teeth; and while she spoke, she clenched her hands tightly, so that the nails left their impress on the soft flesh.

'Here,' said John Lock, dropping some money into the stranger's palm, 'I shall not need you this morning.'

The man bowed, and walked away, whistling softly as he went.

'Now then, swear!' cried Ursula, her features hard as wood, her eyes glittering; and as you deal by father, so God will deal by you.' 'I swear!'

Ursula drew a shawl round her. 'Come, father, and see your chains drop away.'

Thus, filled with bitter antagonism, each soul in revolt against the other, three persons entered the clergyman's dwelling, and an ample fee and special license did the evil job quietly, but surely.

CHAPTER XXXV.

IN THE NET.

JOHN LOCK had arranged it all; no trifling detail had been forgotten by him.

Ursula, his wife, his own undisputed property, was as much his slave as though she had belonged to the harem of the Sultan.

From the dwelling of the clergyman 'Ursula Lock' was driven back to the shabby old house she had hitherto called her own, desired to collect her belongings, and informed that in a few hours she would find herself on board an Atlantic

steamer, bound for the city of New York. Ralph Pierce, haggard and miserable in spite of the sudden freedom that had come to him, accompanied the ill-matched bride and bridegroom down to the harbour, and watched Ursula, who seemed to have grown strangely hard and stern since the ceremony of the morning. She neither shed a tear nor uttered a moan; but this very steadiness and coldness chilled him to the heart. It was so unlike anything he had seen in the girl before.

'Father, you will write to me?' 'Yes, Ursula; and you?' Sometimes; but I shall soon,

very soon come back.' 'Has he promised that ?' 'No; but I promise it.' There was an unchecked sneer on the red lip, a flash like lightning in the black eyes, a stormcloud on the low brow. Truly the man Lock would not find the young girl he had tempted and distorted a facile tool, even in his strong adroit hands.

'Ah, Miss Ursula, here you are! I have run after the cab with all my might with this. The postman brought it a moment after you left,' Nell whispered. She was all in a glow from hard running; her little straw hat had fallen back over her head; her fair hair was all in confusion; but her pretty blue eyes were full of animation and intelligence as she quickly thrust a letter into Ursula's hand, who mechanically dropped it, with out glancing at its superscription, into her pocket. Nothing seemed to have the power of rousing her from the iron stillness that had fallen upon her. In an instant she appeared to have entirely forgotten Nell's presence, though the child was looking wistfully up into her face, expecting some gratitude for the exertion she had made.

'If you won't speak to me,

Miss Ursula, perhaps I had better go at once,' she said at last, choking down a sob of mortification.

Then Ursula started and gave a faint wan smile.

'You here, Nell; come to bid me good-bye! I am glad you came. How long it is since morning! Don't you think so, child? Well, days like this even must have an ending. The sun is sinking fast already. Oh, how I wish it would never, never rise again!' 'Miss Ursula, how strange you look! What is it? What can be the matter?'

'Nothing!' It was a little word, but full of unutterable weariness and dreariness; still the large black eyes glittered with a hot feverish light, without a tear in their dusky depths, and the lovely mouth was set and compressed in an expression of hopelessness and pain.

Nell gazed earnestly at her, big drops glistening on her flaxen lashes, and Ursula caught the pitying look.

It is nothing, child, really nothing! Kiss me; good-bye! We two have always been friends, haven't we?'

'Except now and then,' answered the little creature, who was naturally strictly truthful. 'Sometimes we have fallen out, and I am sorry for it now.'

'Never mind about that; we are friends notwithstanding. You see, child, I have so few friends; no one but you in fact in the wide, wide world!'

Nell felt the tears trickle down her cheeks, and to hide them she averted her head. Then she saw John Lock rapidly advancing towards them, wearing a suspicious and angry face.

'Oh, if there isn't that old Lock, Miss Ursula ! I hate him! Goodbye, good-bye!'

Away the child darted, pulling her hat forward as she went. Ursula

looked after her with a wild yearning wish to break away from her loathsome trammels, and to follow Nell back to the old shabby home, which now seemed to her a paradise from which she was shut out for ever. Oh, why, why had she ever desired to leave it for the miserable lot of John Lock's wife? she asked herself, stamping her foot on the ground in impotent fury.

Come, Ursula darling, it is time to go on board.'

With a gesture of scorn she rejected the man's arm, and walked on rapidly, with her head erect and her hands clenched tightly together.

Ralph Pierce followed her, his head bowed, his heart heavy as lead. To save him his daughter had donned the chains of slavery, and bound herself to a demon.

The three stood upon the deck together. Lock was in exuberant spirits, for his indomitable vanity sustained him just as a consciousness of right would have imparted hope to a better and nobler nature. He never doubted that a few months of devotion and profuse liberality in all that conduced to her enjoyment and amusement would entice his wife to do his will, and that she would become as supple in his grasp as the old man who watched them with such mournful despairing eyes.

As for his bride cherishing any lasting fancy for the lover of her youth, Bernard Keane, John Lock laughed softly to himself at the idea.

Oh, where were the youth and comeliness that could match his plotting brain and indomitable will? The girl was his-his; married solemnly by all the ties that could bind a woman at the altar; and the rest was in his power. He would break Ursula's insolent spirit, mould her like wax to his own desire; for

what woman ever had resisted him or could resist him? Not certainly this half formed, ignorant, impulsive girl, whom he had seized so ruthlessly and swept into the turmoil of his own life that morning. The bell rang, the soft puffs of the engine grew louder and stronger. It was time for all who had gone on board to say good-bye-to leave the already heaving vessel.

Ralph Pierce took his daughter into his trembling arms, and would have murmured a blessing on her, but the words died right away in his throat. Ursula was cold and rigid, her cheeks were as white as marble, but her frame shook in every fibre, and she clung frantically to her father's arm to steady herself.

Come, Pierce,' John Lock said gently; 'we shall be off in another moment.'

Ursula turned upon him quickly, her glance replete with hatred, her lips quivering; bitter words trembled upon them, but they found no utterance. Then she detached herself from her father's clasp, and, without another look, walked towards the other end of the vessel. John Lock followed her, throwing back a light adieu.

The steamer got under weigh, leaving Pierce on the shore gazing wistfully after it. He longed to see his child's face once more looking back at him, but it did not appear; nor did Ursula's hand wave a last farewell, an action that might perchance have softened, in some measure, the keen sense of desolation and self-reproach that fell upon him as the vessel steamed out into what appeared like a great broad curtain of vapoury gray, and then disappeared in a thick sombre mist that seemed to advance towards him and wrap itself and settle all around him, filling him with unutterable gloom.