“Why despise you?” asked Dr. Lacey.

“Because,” replied Julia, “you will dislike me for the foolish thing which Fan wrote about me.  I could not help her writing it.”

“And is it true?” asked Dr. Lacey.

“Oh, you must not ask me that—­I can’t tell—­I shan’t tell—­” and seizing her portfolio Julia started off toward the house, thinking possibly she should be pursued.  But she was not.

During the reading of the journal Dr. Lacey’s heart seemed to go through a benumbing process, which rendered it perfectly palsied.  No emotion either of love or anger did he feel toward Fanny.  She was nought to him.

And how did the knowledge that Julia loved him affect him?  Answer, any man, whether your wounded pride is never soothed by woman’s sympathy, and love, come in what garb it may.  And in Dr. Lacey’s case it was a being of wondrous beauty, who knew well what she was about and had marked each inch of ground ere she trod upon it.  What marvel then that Dr. Lacey turned toward her.  You would have done so; ay, perchance sooner than he did.

That evening after supper, as Dr. Lacey was walking upon the veranda, Florence approached him, saying, “Come, Dr. Lacey, now fulfill your promise of playing with Julia,” at the same time leading him toward the place where her companions were seated.  “Now,” said she, placing the chessboard in his hands, “I am mistress of ceremonies.  We will have a fair understanding.  If Julia beats, you shall be hers; if you beat, Mabel and Lida shall draw cuts for you.  Do you agree to it?”

“Certainly,” was Dr. Lacey’s reply, at the same time seating himself opposite Julia, who gave him a look of searching inquiry.  He understood her and in a low tone answered, “I am in earnest.  Do your best.”

And she did her best.  With one strong effort of the will she concentrated all her energies upon that game, which she felt would decide her fate.  Dr. Lacey, too, as if resolved to conquer, played most skillfully.  The bystanders for a time looked on, and as Lida noticed the livid hue of Julia’s face, she said, “Pray, Julia, don’t burst a blood vessel, for maybe Dr. Lacey will have you, even if you do not beat.”

But the ear she addressed was deaf save to the quiet sound of the chessmen.  The contest was long and severe.  Nine, ten, eleven, struck the little clock in the hall.  One by one the spectators stole away.  Florence’s parting words were, “If Dr. Lacey beats, be sure and wake us, Julia, so Mabel and Lida can draw cuts.”

And now they were alone.  Once and only once Julia glanced at the face of her antagonist.  It was white and colorless as her own hand, which wandered steadily over the chessboard.  The final spell was upon him, and he seemed striving hard to shake it off.  ’Twas all in vain.  The little clock struck the hour of midnight.  The game was ended.  Julia had won.  Dr. Lacey was checkmated!

With one hand he rapidly swept the board of its occupants, while the other he extended toward Julia, saying:  “Take it.  ’Tis all I can offer, for you well know I have no heart to give.  My hand and name you have won—­they are yours.”