n
his breast the feeling that he had once known for her. And _she_
remembered that she was free, even if he forgot it. Poor soul! she
recognised bitterly enough now, that the only safety for a woman is in
that bond which a man may so lightly affect to set at naught: in a
contract like hers and Philip's, the man has all to gain, the woman all
to lose.

It was growing dusk one November afternoon, when the door of Virginia's
drawing-room was thrown open, and Lord Harford announced. A slight blush
suffused her cheek as she rose to receive him, and she appeared slightly
embarrassed. Virginia was still beautiful, though no longer very young;
she had an extremely fragile and delicate appearance, which is
attractive to some men, notably to those who, like Lord Harford, are
big, strong and robust.

"You are not angry with me for coming, are you?" he asks almost
diffidently, as soon as the door has closed on the servant.

"No," she answers gently. Times are changed with her since the last
occasion in which she and he stood face to face in this very room. Then
she _was_ angry, but then she was in the full flush of health and
beauty, and he was her would-be lover. There had been nothing to wound
or humiliate her in his love-making; he had come loyally to offer her
his hand and all that belonged to him, which of wealth and honor was no
mean portion. But she had been deeply stung by a man daring to remember
that she was free, and there was only one husband and lover in the world
for her. Now that, as it seemed to her, beauty and love were so far
removed from her, it was almost a pleasure to remember that she had been
beloved.

"I have passed your door a hundred times," he says, "and never been
able to summon up courage enough to ask for you."

"But to-day you were braver," she utters, looking at him with something
of the old smile and manner.

"I thought perhaps you had a good many dull hours now Vansittart is so
much away."

"How do you know that he is much away?" asks Virginia, feeling vaguely
hurt at his words and tone.

"Because I so often meet him out."

"Where do you meet him?"

"Oh, at different places. Chiefly at Mrs. Devereux's."

Lord Harford looks full in Virginia's face, and she, who is so quick,
cannot fail to see that his eyes and tone are intended to convey some
meaning.

"Mrs. Devereux?" she says, inquiringly. "You mean his cousin."

"Yes."

After this there is a pause. It is as though he wanted he