It was not easy to find Mrs. Crayford in the crowd. Searchinghere, and searching there, Frank became conscious of a stranger,who appeared to be looking for somebody, on his side. He was adark, heavy-browed, strongly-built man, dressed in a shabby oldnaval officer's uniform. His manner--strikingly resolute andself-contained--was unmistakably the manner of a gentleman. Hewound his way slowly through the crowd; stopping to look at everylady whom he passed, and then looking away again with a frown.Little by little he approached the conservatory--entered it,after a moment's reflection--detected the glimmer of a whitedress in the distance, through the shrubs and flowers--advancedto get a nearer view of the lady--and burst into Clara's presencewith a cry of delight.

She sprang to her feet. She stood before him speechless,motionless, struck to stone. All her life was in her eyes--theeyes which told her she was looking at Richard Wardour.

He was the first to speak.

"I am sorry I startled you, my darling. I forgot everything butthe happiness of seeing you again. We only reached our mooringstwo hours since. I was some time inquiring after you, and sometime getting my ticket when they told me you were at the ball.Wish me joy, Clara! I am promoted. I have come back to make youmy wife."

A momentary change passed over the blank terror of her face. Hercolor rose faintly, her lips moved. She abruptly put a questionto him.

"Did you get my letter?"

He started. "A letter from you? I never received it."

The momentary animation died out of her face again. She drew backfrom him and dropped into a chair. He advanced toward her,astonished and alarmed. She shrank in the chair--shrank, as ifshe was frightened of him.

"Clara, you have not even shaken hands with me! What does itmean?"

He paused; waiting and watching her. She made no reply. A flashof the quick temper in him leaped up in his eyes. He repeated hislast words in louder and sterner tones:

"What does it mean?"

She replied this time. His tone had hurt her--his tone had rousedher sinking courage.

"It means, Mr. Wardour, that you have been mistaken from thefirst."

"How have I been mistaken?"

"You have been under a wrong impression, and you have given me noopportunity of setting you right."

"In what way have I been wrong?"

"You have been too hasty and too confident about yourself andabout me. You have entirely misunderstood me. I am grieved todistress you, but for your sake I must speak plainly. I am yourfriend always, Mr. Wardour. I can never be your wife."

He mechanically repeated the last words. He seemed to doubtwhether he had heard her aright.

"You can never be my wife?"

"Never!"

"Why?"

There was no answer. She was incapable of telling him afalsehood. She was ashamed to tell him the truth.

He stooped over her, and suddenly possessed himself of her hand.Holding her hand firmly, he stooped a little lower; searching forthe signs which might answer him in her face. His own facedarkened slowly while he looked. He was beginning to suspect her;and he acknowledged it in his next words.

"Something has changed you toward me, Clara. Somebody hasinfluenced you against me. Is it--you force me to ask thequestion--is it some other man?"

"You have no right to ask me that."

He went on without noticing what she had said to him.

"Has that other man come between you and me? I speak plainly onmy side. Speak plainly on yours."

"I _have_ spoken. I have nothing more to say."

There was a pause. She saw the warning light which told of thefire within him, growing brighter and brighter in his eyes. Shefelt his grasp strengthening on her hand. He appealed to her forthe last time.

"Reflect," he said, "reflect before it is too late. Your silencewill not serve you. If you persist in not answering me, I shalltake your silence as a confession. Do you hear me?"

"I hear you."

"Clara Burnham! I am not to be trifled with. Clara Burnham! Iinsist on the truth. Are you false to me?"

She resented that searching question with a woman's keen sense ofthe insult that is implied in doubting her to her face.

"Mr. Wardour! you forget yourself when you call me to account inthat way. I never encouraged you. I never gave you promise orpledge--"

He passionately interrupted her before she could say more.

"You have engaged yourself in my absence. Your words own it; yourlooks own it! You have engaged yourself to another man!"

"If I _have_ engaged myself, what right have you to complain ofit?" she answered firmly. "What right have you to control myactions--?"

The next words died away on her lips. He suddenly dropped herhand. A marked change appeared in the expression of his eyes--achange which told her of the terrible passions that she had letloose in him. She read, dimly read, something in his face whichmade her tremble--not for herself, but for Frank.

Little by little the dark color faded out of his face. His deepvoice dropped suddenly to a low and quiet tone as he spoke theparting words.

"Say no more, Miss Burnham--you have said enough. I am answered;I am dismissed." He paused, and, stepping close up to her, laidhis hand on her arm.

"The time may come," he said, "when I shall forgive you. But theman who has robbed me of you shall rue the day when you and hefirst met."

He turned and left her.

A few minutes later, Mrs. Crayford, entering the conservatory,was met by one of the attendants at the ball. The man stopped asif he wished to speak to her.

"What do you want?" she asked.

"I beg your pardon, ma'am. Do you happen to have asmelling-bottle about you? There is a young lady in theconservatory who is taken faint."

Between the Scenes

The Landing Stage