Even Pauline's stoical calmness was not proof against the announcement which she had just heard from Martin Gurwood. She staggered back, staring wildly at him, and putting her hand to her head as though doubting the evidence of her senses. Martin, thinking she as about to fall, proffered his arm, but she put it aside gently.  
'Thank you,' she said; 'I shall be very well presently; the shock was a little too much for me. To have one's faith in such a man's character rudely shaken, is-- But I will not add to your distress, Monsieur Martin, by any observations of mine. You are going this way? Then let us walk together. After a little reflection, I shall be better able to comprehend the full nature of the disclosure you have been good enough to make to me.'
 
Martin bowed. And they set off walking towards the village, both silent and buried in their own thoughts.
 
Pauline had indeed need for a little quiet, in which she might turn over in her mind the news which she had just heard, and calculate its bearing on her future. Mr. Calverley, under the assumed name of Claxton, was living with this woman at Hendon; and of course was in the habit of visiting her, when he pretended that he was away on business, inspecting the ironworks in the North. Pauline saw that at once, and half smiled as she allowed to herself that Mrs. Calverley's hatred of the Swartmoor ironworks was not without cause. And as for the reverend's story that the woman had been betrayed by a false marriage--bah! that was to be taken for what it was worth.
 
What a strange old man, this Calverley! How rusé, how cunning! He had deceived even her. So quiet and staid and long-suffering as he seemed! It was not difficult to understand now why Mr. Claxton had never been formally presented to the household at Great Walpole-street. She
was--stay, though! the link connecting her with Tom Durham, that was still wanting, and must be found. Could the reverend help her to it? She would try.
 
'Tell me, Monsieur Martin, is this the first time you have seen this poor creature who has been so cruelly deceived?'
 
When Martin Gurwood raised his face, his cheeks were flushed at the imputation which he conceived Pauline's question to convey. ''This is the first time I have seen the lady,' he said, in a grave tone, 'and it is only lately that I have known of her existence.'
 
'Indeed,' said Pauline. 'And from whom did you hear of her
existence--not from Madame Calverley?'
 
'Good Heavens, no!' cried Martin. It is of the utmost importance, for more reasons than one, that my mother should know nothing of this sad affair.'
 
'Exactly,' said Pauline, looking at him narrowly; 'I perfectly agree with you. Then from whom did you have the information? You will pardon me, Monsieur Martin,' she added in a soft voice, 'but I take such an interest in this sad affair.'
 
'From Mr. Broadbent, the doctor residing in this village. He happened to be with Doctor Haughton when the body was found, and recognised it as that of the gentleman whom he had known as Mr. Claxton.'
 
'O, indeed! how sadly interesting!' she said. 'This reverend knows nothing about this pale-faced woman,' she thought to herself, 'and cannot help me in any way respecting her. Why my husband left me, where he is now, that tormenting mystery of my life, is still--save that I know that he and this woman are not now together--as far from solution as ever. That knowledge is, however, a point gained, and possessed as I am of this secret, I think I shall be enabled not merely to prevent their coming together again, but to have my revenge on her for what she has done already. And now let us see how the land lies, and how this reverend intends to proceed in the matter. His plumes were rather ruffled, I thought, just now; I must set them straight again.'
 
She turned to Martin Gurwood, who, with his eyes still downcast, was striding by her side, and said, 'I have been thinking over what you told me, Monsieur Martin, and I do not remember ever to have heard a sadder story. Ah, Monsieur Martin, it is lucky that it is into your hands that this poor young woman has fallen--you whose life has been so pure and blameless--'
 
'Madame Du Tertre,' he interrupted hurriedly, 'I must beg of you--'
 
'I repeat, Monsieur Martin, you whose life has been so pure and blameless--have I not heard of it from your mother? have I not watched it for some time myself?--can feel true Christian pity for this girl so cruelly betrayed. You are right, too, in keeping the mere fact of her existence secret from Madame Calverley. She would be furious, that good lady, and not without cause. She would be furious; and when she is furious she loses her head, and would bring trouble and scandal upon the family. Do you know what I have been thinking about during our walk, Monsieur Martin? I have been thinking that you will require my assistance in this matter.'
 
'Your assistance, Madame Du Tertre?'
 
'Mine, Monsieur Martin. You who can see things so clearly will not require to be told that I have great influence with Madame Calverley; that influence shall be exercised in your behalf. I will enter into a compact with you to help you in aiding this unhappy woman, of whom you take so compassionate a view, by every means in my power, provided you do not interfere with any plans of mine as regards your mother.'
 
'I--I must first know what those plans are before I can agree to your proposition, madame,' said Martin, with hesitation.
 
'Are you in a position to make terms?' asked Pauline, with a short, hard laugh. 'I do not know myself what those plans are at
present--nothing to hurt you or any one, you may be sure; but you see I am in possession of your secret, and can work for or against you as I choose. There, don't look so scared, Monsieur Martin; I meant no harm. You will find me a trusty ally; a woman can do more in these cases than any man, however well-intentioned; and we may perhaps keep the truth of her real position from this poor creature for a time. And whenever it must be told, you may depend upon it I should break it to her better than you would.'
 
Martin glanced hurriedly at her as he comprehended the full force of what she said--as the exact position in which they stood to each other dawned upon him. He had been taken unawares, when his nervous system, always highly strung, was at its extreme point of tension after the interview with Alice, and scarce thinking what he was saying, he blurted out the secret which should never have passed his lips, and the revelation of which involved such dire consequences. What would Humphrey Statham say when he knew what had happened, as know it he must? He, cool, far-seeing, and methodical, would be sure to reproach his friend with having acted on headstrong impulse. Martin blamed his own rashness; but what was said could not be unsaid. Madame Du Tertre, as she had remarked, was in possession of the facts, and the only way to treat her now was to make her a friend instead of an enemy, and to give in to her as far as was compatible with the plan already laid. down. Her tendency was at present undoubtedly amiable, Martin thought, and it was best to encourage that spirit. He knew that in her assertion of her power over Mrs. Calverley she spoke truth, and it was all-important that that power should be exercised in their favour. His mother was splenetic and stubborn; once raised to a sense of her injuries, she would leave nothing undone to sweep this wretched woman from her path, and to crush her altogether. For Alice's sake, it was most important that the knowledge of her real position should be withheld from her as long as possible, and that when the announcement had to be made, it should be made with due delicacy. He had been wrong in taking any outsider into his confidence, but under existing circumstances it was clear that Madame Du Tertre should be won over to their side, and treated with the respect which she seemed inclined to exact.
 
So, his mind filled with these thoughts, Martin Gurwood turned
to her and said: 'You are perfectly right, Madame Du Tertre; your
co-operation will be most valuable to me; and as to the terms which you propose, I am quite willing to accept them, recognising the rectitude of the principles by which you are governed.'
 
Recollecting his warlike declaration at the commencement of their interview, Pauline was more than half inclined to smile at this utterance, but she checked herself, and said: 'Then it is understood, Monsieur Martin, that our alliance commences from this moment. To prove my interest in it, I should be glad if you would tell me what immediate steps you propose taking in reference to this poor lady. Very much will depend upon your present action; and I am anxious to know what it is.'
 
'Well,' replied Martin, rather taken aback by her prompt decision, 'the fact is that you will probably be called upon to exert your powers of diplomacy at once.'
 
'Such powers,' said Pauline, 'unless ready on an emergency, are but little worth. This poor creature does not know her position; under what circumstances have you left her?'
 
'I had a long and most heart-rending interview with her,' said Martin, 'part of which it appears you saw. I had to break to her that the man whom she supposed to be her husband, and whom she loved with all the strength and fidelity of her girlish nature, was dead--that was enough for once. I had not the heart--I had not the courage even to tell her that he was not her husband, but her betrayer; a being whose memory should be loathed and abhorred, rather than worshipped.'
 
'There was no necessity for that just now,' said Pauline; 'that announcement can be made later on, and then can be made more quietly and delicately. What else did you say?'
 
'I told her when I left her that I would return and take her to London, to-night.'
 
'To London! To what part of London?'
 
'To Mrs. Calverley's house, where I was compelled to tell her--her husband's body was lying. Of course she had heard of Mr. Calverley as her husband's partner, and with this explanation she seemed content.'
 
'Ah, poor creature!' cried Pauline, 'She does not know, then, that the body has already been buried?'
 
'No, I did not tell her that, and fortunately she did not ask me the date of the death.'
 
'And when you made this promise, may I ask what plan was in your mind?'
 
'My idea was,' said Martin, blushing somewhat as the vagueness of this same idea dawned upon him; 'my idea was, to go to a friend of mine named Statham, a very clever man, kind-hearted, and with a vast knowledge of the world, who has already helped me in this business, and indeed has seen Mrs.--the young woman I mean--and first gave me the notion that she was not what one might have imagined she would have been.'
 
'O, indeed,' said Pauline, eyeing him closely, 'this Mr. Statham has seen the poor lady, and finds her thus?'
 
'Exactly,' replied Martin. 'Well, I thought I would go to Statham and tell him what I had done, and get him to come down with me here this afternoon, and then I thought that between us both we might tell
her--tell her--all!'
 
'I can imagine how much of the narration would fall to Mr. Statham's share,' said Pauline, with a quiet smile. 'Now, I don't know Mr. Statham, and cannot therefore judge of his method of treating the subject, but I think I have a better plan to propose, and as it is one in which I assign the principal part to myself, I am perhaps qualified to speak about it.'
 
'I am sure,' said Mar............