is slow enough. But there has been a good deal happening, as you know"—here he turned his eyes upon her.
"What do I know?" said she, sharply.
He left a pause before he said, without change of manner, "That I was thinking of marrying. You saw Miss Harleth?"
"She told you that?"
The pale cheeks looked even paler, perhaps from the fierce brightness in the eyes above them.
"No. Lush told me," was the slow answer. It was as if the thumb-screw and the iron-boot were being placed by creeping hands within sight of the expectant victim.
"Good God! say at once that you are going to marry her," she burst out passionately, her knee shaking and her hands tightly clasped.
"Of course, this kind of thing must happen some time or other, Lydia," said he; really, now the thumb-screw was on, not wishing to make the pain worse.
"You didn't always see the necessity."
"Perhaps not. I see it now."
In those few undertoned words of Grandcourt's she felt as absolute a resistance as if her thin fingers had been pushing at a fast-shut iron door. She knew her helplessness, and shrank from test-
