and bridegroom, and, to place them at ease, began to talk to Lady Emily on indifferent topics. At this moment Edith, with a countenance as pale. as death, muttered, rather than whispered, to Lord Evandale a request to speak with him. He offered his arm, and supported her into the small anti-room, which, as we have noticed before, opened from the parlour. He placed her in a chair, and, taking one himself, awaited the opening of the conversation.
"I am distressed, my Lord," were the first words she was able to articulate, and those with difficulty; "I scarce know what I would say, nor how to speak it."
"If I have any share in occasioning your uneasiness," said Lord Evandale mildly, "you will soon, Edith, be released from it."
"You are determined then, my Lord, to run this desperate course with desperate men, in spite of your own better reason—in spite of your friends? entreaties—in
