* * * * *

In the mean while, the sanguinary preparations went silently on.  In the gray of a foggy February morning the duel was fought, and Captain Wentworth fell, as it was at first thought, mortally wounded.

At the request of his excellent physician, Dr. Durand, when the watchers were exhausted, and vigilance was all-essential in his case, I accepted, rather than proposed to take, the post of watcher for one night, in company with his devoted friend and coadjutor Edward Vernon, and discovered, in my anguish, and in my power over his distracted senses, my so-far-hidden gift of magnetism.

Insomnolency was destroying him; opiates had been tried in vain to compose him, and now, under my waving fingers and strained will, he slept the sweet, refreshing magnetic slumber.  He lived, some were pleased to say, and among others, his physician, through my agency—­my admirable nursing—­for none save Vernon ever knew the secret of my sway.  We became engaged during his convalescence, simply, quietly, unostentatiously.

In due time we made our troth-plight known to the household of Beauseincourt, all of whom, from its formal master to my best-beloved, brightest, and ever-tantalizing pupil, Bertie, accorded me their heart-felt congratulations.  Gregory alone—­the evil genius of the place—­cast his poisonous sneers and doubts above our happiness—­a structure too firmly based, too far removed from him, however, for his arrows to reach or destroy.  Circumstances seemed later to favor his malicious designs, as shall be shown in the conclusion of this work; but, together, and in the full flush of our happiness, we were invincible.

A sudden summons from the seat of government compelled Captain Wentworth to leave Lesdernier a few hours after its reception—­hours of which he passed, through the necessity of speedy preparation, but one with me.  So far I had delayed the revelation of my true history and name, preferring to postpone this to my majority and our marriage-day; but, after his departure, I rued my resolution, and concluded to write to him a hasty summary of my life and motives of action.  This letter was, as a matter of necessity, confided to the care of Luke Gregory (never a chosen depositary of mine in any way), who followed him to Savannah to receive some parting instructions for the conduct of their work, and who was to return to Lesdernier after the interval of a week.

In the ardor of my impulse, I could not slight an opportunity of so soon receiving a reply to my somewhat startling and, I felt now, too-long-delayed communication, and thus testing my lover’s trust and confidence in me.  When Gregory returned to Beauseincourt, he assured me he had delivered my letter punctually (I never doubted this, for he knew the man he had to deal with), adding, carelessly, that it was well Wentworth had said he would write soon, as he had been unfortunate enough to lose the hastily-pencilled reply, with his own pocket-book, at the Lenoir Landing, where both were food for fishes.