his, and held them softly. Thrilled through all his senses, he turned
towards her wonderingly.

"Are we wise, Lawrence," she whispered, "if indeed you love me? Life is
so short, and I am not a young woman any more. I have been lonely so
long. I want a little happiness before I go."

"Don't!" he cried, hoarsely. "You know--what comes between us."

She was a little indignant, but still tender.

"This woman does not want you, Lawrence," she cried. "I do! Oh,
Lawrence!"

He faltered. She laid her fingers upon his arm.

"Come down the steps," she murmured, "and I will show you Lady Redford's
rose-garden."

Her touch was compelling. He could not have resisted it. And about his
heart lay the joy of her near presence. Side by side they moved along the
terrace--it seemed to him that they passed towards their destiny. The
gentle rustling of her clothes, their slight, mysterious perfume, was
like music to him. A sudden wave of passion carried him away. The
primitive virility of the man, awake at last, demanded its birthright.

And then upon the lower step they met Borrowdean, and he placed himself
squarely in their way.

"I am sorry to interrupt you," he said, gravely, "but Lord Redford has
sent me out to look for you and to send you at once into the library.
Something rather serious has happened."

Mannering came down to earth.

"The evening papers have come," Borrowdean said. "The _Pall Mall_ has the
whole story. You were seen at the working-men's club in Glasgow!"

Mannering turned towards the house. His nerves were all tingling with
excitement, but the thread had suddenly been snapped. He was no longer in
danger of yielding to that flood of delicious sensations. His voice had
been almost steady as he had begged Berenice to excuse him. Berenice
stood quite still. Her hand was pressed to her side, her dark eyes were
lit with passion. She leaned forward towards Borrowdean, and seemed about
to strike him.

"You will find yourself--repaid for this, Sir Leslie," she murmured.

Then she turned abruptly away. For an hour or more she walked alone
amongst the trellised walks of Lady Redford's rose-garden. But Mannering
did not return.

CHAPTER XIII

THE WOMAN AND--THE OTHER WOMAN

"You see, Mannering," Lord Redford said, tapping the outspread evening
paper with his forefinger, "the situation now presents a different
aspect. I have no wish to force your hand--a few hours ago I think I
proved this. But if you