straightening himself with a defiant air.
"Harry, you must hear me!" she said, laying a detaining hand upon his arm, for he was moving toward the door.
"That's a strong word, and one you've no right to use to me," he answered moodily, yet yielding to her determined will.
She pointed to a chair, and he sat down.
"Speak and be done with it," he said.
Tears sprang to her eyes, but she forced them back.
"Are you mad, Harry, that you venture a return to this country?" she asked in an undertone, her voice trembling with excitement, "can you have forgotten the danger that hangs over you?"
"It's trifling, considering the changes five years have made," he said, with affected nonchalance; but his cheek paled.
"Don't deceive yourself, don't trust to that; I recognized you at the first glance," she said, with the earnestness of one determined to convince.
"Well, one of my own family would, of course, be more apt to do so than any one else. And I was never known in this part of the country."
"No; but people travel about a great deal; Northerners come South frequently; especially in winter; and you may, any day, come face to face with some old acquaintance who will recognize you, and have you arrested; and then—" she hid her face and shuddered. "O Harry," she cried, "I shall live in terror till I know you are safe on the other side of the ocean."
"I'll go in all haste when I have secured my prize," he said coldly.
"Give it up," she entreated, "you have no right to drag an innocent girl down to infamy with you. Better go and make an honest living by the labor of your hands."
"I wasn't brought up to that, and infinitely prefer to live by my wits," he answered, with an evil smile, "and they'll have to help me to the means to pay my passage to those foreign shores you so highly recommend."
"Sell this: it would surely bring more than enough for that," she said, pointing to the glittering gem on his finger.
"Paste, my dear, nothing but paste," he laughed. "Clever imitation, isn't it?"
"Ah, Harry, a fair type of its owner, I fear," she said sorrowfully.
"Thanks for the compliment," he answered with a bitter laugh. "Well, after all, it is a compliment, taken in the sense that I'm as clever an imitation of what Miss Marsden takes me for, as this is of a real diamond; and perhaps she's as good a judge of the first article, as you are of the other; ha! ha!"
"Harry," cried his sister, "are you utterly heartless? have you no pity at all for that poor silly girl?"
"Pooh! Gertrude, I have to look out for myself; and other people must do the same; I tell you it is a case of necessity," he answered doggedly.
"No," she said, "there cannot be a necessity for wrong doing, and if persisted in it must end at last in terrible retribution; both in this world and the next," she added in low, tremulous tones.
"I'll risk it," he said with an oath. "And as to the girl, why she'd break her silly heart if I should forsake her," he added, with an unpleasant laugh, "You've no idea how deeply in love she is."
"You are mistaken: she has no heart to break, and loves nobody, half so well as herself. She will never be the woman to stand by and comfort you in adversity: therefore you will be doing a foolish thing to make her your wife, even though you consult your own interest alone."
At that he only laughed, saying that as the girl's money was all he wanted, he didn't care whether she stood by him or not after he once got it into his possession.
She renewed her warnings and entreaties, urging every motive she could think of to induce him to give up his wicked designs upon Juliet Marsden, and forsake all his evil courses; but in vain; his heart was fully set in him to do evil, and neither love of his mother and sisters, nor pity for the deluded girl, could move him.
Nor did fear of punishment deter him. He was no coward, he said, glorying in his shame, and showing himself utterly devoid of wisdom 'for the fear of the Lord, that is wisdom; and to depart from evil, is understanding;' and the Bible calls those fools who make a mock at sin, despise instruction and hate to depart from evil.
At length there was a sound of approaching wheels; upon which he exclaimed in a relieved tone, "There, you'd better go; it won't help either you or me for us to be caught together."
"No," she assented, rising hastily, "I must go. O, Harry, think of what I've been saying, and don't rush headlong to destruction!"
"There! I've had enough of it!" he retorted angrily. "I'll do as I please. And do you keep yourself quiet."
Chapter Fourteenth.
"How poor a thing is pride!"
"The beauty you o'erprise so, time or sickness
Can change to loath'd deformity; your wealth
The prey of thieves."
—Massinger.
The most open-handed hospitality having ever been the rule at Roselands, it was no difficult matter for Count De Lisle to get himself invited to stay to tea and spend the evening; in fact it was long past midnight when he at last took leave of Juliet and went away.
The thud of his horse's hoofs as he galloped down the avenue, brought a pale, haggard face to an upper window; but the dim light of the stars revealed nothing save the merest outline of the steed and his rider, and that for but an instant.
The watcher turned away, sighing to herself "I cannot see him, but it must be he," hastily crossed the room and stole noiselessly into the hall beyond.
The hours spent by him in dalliance with Juliet (they had had the drawing-room to themselves since ten o'clock) had been to her—his much tried sister—a time of bitter anguish and fierce mental conflict.
How could she permit this wickedness? yet how prevent it, when the only way to do so was by exposing him—her brother?
It seemed a terribly hard thing to do, for she loved him, and his disgrace was hers, and that of the whole family.
She was sorely tempted to leave Juliet to the fate she seemed to be drawing upon herself by her egregious folly,—that of becoming the wife of a spendthrift, and one whose vices had led him to commit a crime against the laws of the land, the penalty of which was a term of years in the penitentiary.
It would be a sad fate, but perhaps not undeserved by a girl who would rush into it in opposition to the known wishes and commands of her parents.
Harry had unguardedly admitted to his sister that he had no hope of winning the consent of either Mr. or Mrs. Marsden; that they were, in fact, so violently opposed to his suit, that he dared not visit their daughter in her own home; but he had exultingly added that he was perfectly certain of his ability to persuade Juliet to elope with him, and meant to do so sooner or later.
