ot have mixed taunts and
jeers with her refusal to believe; she need not have _triumphed_ openly
over Blanche. Was it well done? Was it the work of an affectionate
sister! As we sow, so shall we reap. She married Sir Francis Levison,
leaving Blanche to her broken heart, or to any other calamity that might
grow out of the injustice. And there sat Lady Levison now, her three
years of marriage having served to turn her love for Sir Francis into
contempt and hate.

A little boy, two years old, the only child of the marriage, was playing
about the room. His mother took no notice of him; she was buried in
all-absorbing thought--thought which caused her lips to contract, and
her brow to scowl. Sir Francis entered, his attitude lounging, his air
listless. Lady Levison roused herself, but no pleasant manner of tone
was hers, as she set herself to address him.

"I want some money," she said.

"So do I," he answered.

An impatient stamp of the foot and a haughty toss. "And I must have it.
I _must_. I told you yesterday that I must. Do you suppose I can go on,
without a sixpence of ready money day after day?"

"Do you suppose it is of any use to put yourself in this fury?" retorted
Sir Francis. "A dozen times a week do you bother me for money and a
dozen times do I tell you I have got none. I have got none for myself.
You may as well ask that baby for money as ask me."

"I wish he had never been born!" passionately uttered Lady Levison;
"unless he had had a different father."

That the last sentence, and the bitter scorn of its tone, would have
provoked a reprisal from Sir Francis, his flashing countenance betrayed.
But at that moment a servant entered the room.

"I beg your pardon, sir. That man, Brown, forced his way into the hall,
and--"

"I can't see him--I won't see him!" interrupted Sir Francis backing to
the furthest corner of the room, in what looked very like abject terror,
as if he had completely lost his presence of mind. Lady Levison's lips
curled.

"We got rid of him, sir, after a dreadful deal of trouble, I was
about to say, but while the door was open in the dispute, Mr. Meredith
entered. He has gone into the library, sir, and vows he won't stir till
he sees you, whether you are sick or well."

A moment's pause, a half-muttered oath, and the Sir Francis quitted the
room. The servant retired, and Lady Levison caught up her child.

"Oh, Franky dear," she wailed forth, burying her face in his warm neck.