"Amelia!"

"Say something."

"Ask him to sit down."

Thus addressing one another in whispers, the three stepdaughtersof Lady Winwood stood bewildered in their own drawing-room,helplessly confronting an object which appeared before them onthe threshold of the door.

The date was the 23d of December. The time was between two andthree in the afternoon. The occasion was the return of the threesisters from the Committee meeting of the Sacred Concerts'Society. And the object was Richard Turlington.

He stood hat in hand at the door, amazed by his reception. "Ihave come up this morning from Somersetshire," he said. "Haven'tyou heard? A matter of business at the office has forced me toleave my guests at my house in the country. I return to themto-morrow. When I say my guests, I mean the Graybrookes. Don'tyou know they are staying with me? Sir Joseph and Miss Laviniaand Natalie?" On the utterance of Natalie's name, the sistersroused themselves. They turned about and regarded each other withlooks of dismay. Turlington's patience began to fail him. "Willyou be so good as to tell me what all this means?" he said, alittle sharply. "Miss Lavinia asked me to call here when sheheard I was coming to town. I was to take charge of a pattern fora dress, which she said you would give me. You ought to havereceived a telegram explaining it all, hours since. Has themessage not reached you?"

The leading spirit of the three sisters was Miss Amelia. She wasthe first who summoned presence of mind enough to give a plainanswer to Turlington's plain question.

"We received the telegram this morning, "she said. "Something hashappened since which has shocked and surprised us. We beg yourpardon." She turned to one of her sisters. "Sophia, the patternis ready in the drawer of that table behind you. Give it to Mr.Turlington."

Sophia produced the packet. Before she handed it to the visitor,she looked at her sister. "Ought we to let Mr. Turlington go,"she asked, "as if nothing had happened?"

Amelia considered silently with herself. Dorothea, the thirdsister (who had not spoken yet), came forward with a suggestion.She proposed, before proceeding further, to inquire whether LadyWinwood was in the house. The idea was instantly adopted. Sophiarang the bell. Amelia put the questions when the servantappeared.

Lady Winwood had left the house for a drive immediately afterluncheon. Lord Winwood--inquired for next--had accompanied herladyship. No message had been left indicating the hour of theirreturn.

The sisters looked at Turlington, uncertain what to say or donext. Miss Amelia addressed him as soon as the servant had leftthe room.

"Is it possible for you to remain here until either my father orLady Winwood return?" she asked.

"It is quite impossible. Minutes are of importance to me to-day."

"Will you give us one of your minutes? We want to considersomething which we may have to say to you before you go."

Turlington, wondering, took a chair. Miss Amelia put the casebefore her sisters from the sternly conscientious point of view,at the opposite end of the room.

"We have not found out this abominable deception by any underhandmeans," she said. "The discovery has been forced upon us, and westand pledged to nobody to keep the secret. Knowing as we do howcruelly this gentleman has been used, it seems to me that we arebound in honor to open his eyes to the truth. If we remain silentwe make ourselves Lady Winwood's accomplices. I, for one-- Idon't care what may come of it--refuse to do that."

Her sisters agreed with her. The first chance their cleverstepmother had given them of asserting their importance againsthers was now in their hands. Their jealous hatred of Lady Winwoodassumed the mask of Duty--duty toward an outraged and deceivedfellow-creature. Could any earthly motive be purer than that?"Tell him, Amelia!" cried the two young ladies, with the headlongrecklessness of the sex which only stops to think when the timefor reflection has gone by.

A vague sense of something wrong began to stir uneasily inTurlington's mind.

"Don't let me hurry you," he said, "but if you really haveanything to tell me--"

Miss Amelia summoned her courage, and began.

"We have something very dreadful to tell you," she said,interrupting him. "You have been presented in this house, Mr.Turlington, as a gentleman engaged to marry Lady Winwood'scousin. Miss Natalie Graybrooke." She paused there--at the outsetof the disclosure. A sudden change of expression passed overTurlington's face, which daunted her for the moment. "We havehitherto understood," she went on, "that you were to be marriedto that young lady early in next month."

"Well?"

He could say that one word. Looking at their pale faces, andtheir eager eyes, he could say no more.

"Take care!" whispered Dorothea, in her sister's ear. "Look athim, Amelia! Not too soon."

Amelia went on more carefully.

"We have just returned from a musical meeting," she said. "One ofthe ladies there was an acquaintance, a former school-fellow ofours. She is the wife of the rector of St. Columb Major--a largechurch, far from this--at the East End of London."

"I know nothing about the woman or the church," interposedTurlington, sternly.

"I must beg you to wait a little. I can't tell you what I want totell you unless I refer to the rector's wife. She knows LadyWinwood by name. And she heard of Lady Winwood recently undervery strange circumstances--circumstances connected with asignature in one of the books of the church."

Turlington lost his self-control. "You have got something againstmy Natalie," he burst out; "I know it by your whispering, I seeit in your looks! Say it at once in plain words."

There was no trifling with him now. In plain words Amelia saidit.

* * * * * * * * *

There was silence in the room. They could hear the sound ofpassing footsteps in the street. He stood perfectly still on thespot where they had struck him dumb by the disclosure, supportinghimself with his right hand laid on the head of a sofa near him.The sisters drew back horror-struck into the furthest corner ofthe room. His face turned them cold. Through the mute miserywhich it had expressed at first, there appeared, slowly forcingits way to view, a look of deadly vengeance which froze them tothe soul. They whispered feverishly one to the other, withoutknowing what they were talking of, without hearing their ownvoices. One of them said, "Ring the bell!" Another said, "Offerhim something, he will faint." The third shuddered, and repeated,over and over again, "Why did we do it? Why did we do it?"

He silenced them on the instant by speaking on his side. He cameon slowly, by a step at a time, with the big drops of agonyfalling slowly over his rugged face. He said, in a hoarsewhisper, "Write me down the name of the church--there." He heldout his open pocketbook to Amelia while he spoke. She steadiedherself, and wrote the address. She tried to say a word to softenhim. The word died on her lips. There was a light in his eyes asthey looked at her which transfigured his face to somethingsuperhuman and devilish. She turned away from him, shuddering.

He put the book back in his pocket, and passed his handkerchiefover his face. After a moment of indecision, he suddenly andswiftly stole out of the room, as if he was afraid of theircalling somebody in, and stopping him. At the door he turnedround for a moment, and said, "You will hear how this ends. Iwish you good-morning."

The door closed on him. Left by themselves, they began to realizeit. They thought of the consequences when his back was turned andit was too late.

The Graybrookes! Now he knew it, what would become of theGraybrookes? What wou ld he do when he got back? Even at ordinarytimes--when he was on his best behavior--he was a rough man. Whatwould happen? Oh, good God! what would happen when he and Natalienext stood face to face? It was a lonely house--Natalie had toldthem about it--no neighbors near; nobody by to interfere but theweak old father and the maiden aunt. Something ought to be done.Some steps ought to be taken to warn them. Advice--who could giveadvice? Who was the first person who ought to be told of what hadhappened? Lady Winwood? No! even at that crisis the sisters stillshrank from their stepmother--still hated her with the oldhatred! Not a word to _her!_ They owed no duty to _her!_ Who elsecould they appeal to? To their father? Yes! There was the personto advise them. In the meanwhile, silence toward theirstepmother--silence toward every one till their father came back!

They waited and waited. One after another the precious hours,pregnant with the issues of life and death, followed each otheron the dial. Lady Winwood returned alone. She had left herhusband at the House of Lords. Dinner-time came, and brought withit a note from his lordship. There was a debate at the House.Lady Winwood and his daughters were not to wait dinner for him.