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"Can I help you, Ruthven? Logan Braes are not exactly like the Bank of England; but if a few hundreds——"

"You cannot help me, old fellow—thanks."

"Why?"

"I cannot, and may not, tell you; it is a family trouble—a secret, and a sore one."

Some days elapsed before—under the alteration of his circumstances—he could summon up courage to visit the Darnels; but he felt the imperative necessity of doing so, after all the hospitality he had received; and then, he would gradually cease to go near them, whatever view might be taken of his changed conduct; but after all that had passed between himself and Aurelia one visit was necessary, and then—what next?

He shivered as he thought of it with sorrow and shame.

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At the usual hour for an afternoon visit Roland Ruthven, in his blue undress uniform, with the handsome gilt shoulder scales then worn (mufti was forbidden), left his sword in the entrance hall, and was duly ushered into the handsome and spacious drawing-room of the Chateau de St. Eustache, as Mrs., or rather Madame, Darnel's abode was named, for she was a French Canadian, a widow and the heiress of one of those seigneuries which are in so many instances in possession of the families endowed with them by the kings of France.