"Or three either, if I may be allowed to prophecy."

1

"Success to his suit, say I. He is just as good as she is. Indeed, she ought to be glad to get him; for his family is far more respectable than hers." "That is true. Her father is nobody. Who ever heard of him until a few years ago? And as for her mother, it would be a hard task to trace her pedigree, and not very flattering to her descendants, when it was done. If it wasn't for her father's money, I don't think William would take much to heart her failure to comply with her marriage promise."

"No, I suppose not."

We cannot follow these heartless, dangerous women, any further in their conversation. Enough of their characters and designs are apparent to the reader.

8*

CHAPTER X.

BLIND INFATUATION.

AFTER Florence Armitage had left Mrs. Hartley on the day she showed her the letter which she had received from Archer, she did not see so clearly as while with her, the impropriety of making a reply. The image of the young man was constantly before her mind, and, scarcely conscious of it herself, she dwelt with pleasing emotions on that image.

When she went home, she shut herself up in her own room, and read over his letter again. "I fear to wrong any one," she sighed.

Then came up to the eyes of her mind, with vivid distinctness, the form of Grace Leary; and the whole scene on the night appointed for her wedding arose and passed before her. Shuddering, she strove to banish the blasting visions, but strove in vain. It seemed as if the wretched girl was in the room, and warning her not to give a moment's heed to the tempter.

The excitement, under which she had been for some time, at length subsided. But still her

thoughts turned to William Archer. Resolutely did she strive to banish his image, but she strove without success. It was still present with her. That night, before she retired to bed, she wrote three letters in answer to the one she had received, and destroyed them all. The first one seemed to her too cold and repulsive in style; and the two last, rather warmer than she thought it right to send.

For days and weeks a violent struggle went on in her mind. She saw Mrs. Hartley frequently during the time, but carefully avoided making any allusions to the subject. One day she met Mrs. Leslie in the street. She had not visited her for some time. That lady urged her so strongly to call upon her, that she promised to do so, and very soon fulfilled her promise. Dexterously did Mrs. Leslie manage to lead Florence to allude to the past.

"Have you never seen him since?” she asked, finally, alluding to Archer, and speaking in a tone that completely betrayed Florence into a misplaced confidence.

"But once," was replied.

"When?"

"A few weeks ago I met him in the street." "Did you speak to him?"

"Certainly not."

"Poor fellow! He has suffered severely." "And so has Grace Leary. A thousand times more deeply than ever he has." Florence said this with something like indignant warmth.

"That may be poor wretch! But, it is barely possible that he may be innocent of any wrong

towards her."

"She solemnly accuses him; and charges the ruin of other victims upon him."

"Of all of which he may be guilty."

"Can there be any doubt of it?"

"There is always a doubt of guilt where no positive evidence is given.".

"But is there not positive evidence in this case?” "There is the testimony of a vicious woman. How far do you think that ought to be taken?"

"It should be taken with allowance, certainly. But, in this case, her testimony is not the only proof. The wrong done to Grace Leary by William Archer has been a thing of notoriety for a long time."

"There has been a good deal of running gossip on the subject, I know; but a little tattle of this kind is too common to have much weight attached to it. The young man declares his innocence,

and we should take good care that, in throwing him off, we do not wrong the innocent."

"What do you think? What is your opinion, Mrs. Leslie ?" Florence asked, with a countenance and tone of voice that betrayed the interest her heart still retained in Archer.

"I believe he has been a wild young manthat, in the thoughtless ardour of youth, he may have been led astray in some things. But, of the errors of his youth, I believe he has sincerely repented, and that it is wrong to condemn him on their account."

Florence did not reply.

"That he suffers acutely in consequence of the present aspect of affairs, I know. He was deeply attached to you, and still is.”

"Do not speak so to me, Mrs. Leslie," Florence said, with evident agitation.

"I speak but the truth. Surely you are not afraid to hear that."

"I do not know that Mr. Archer is innocent of the dreadful crime charged upon him in the most solemn manner-a manner that carried instant conviction to my heart, and to every one present."

"And still all may have been but the mad ravings of an insane creature."