ening. He walked homeward, but not until he had decided,
after much hesitation, that he could scarcely go back again to Lady
Sara. His thoughts were fixed now to one refrain--"I must have my
freedom." Freedom, at that moment, had a mocking, lovely face, the
darkest blue eyes, and quantities of long, black hair. She wore a violet
dress, her hands were white, and she talked like a Blue Book set to
music by Beethoven. Yes, he must have his freedom and live.

Sara and Orange, meanwhile, left alone in the drawing-room, were
exchanging interrogatory glances, "What do you think now?" she asked;
"do you pretend to believe that Agnes and Beauclerk can make each other
even moderately contented?"

"Then you are to blame."

A flush swept over her face. She looked bitter reproaches, but she made
no answer.

"And why are you so interested in Anglican Orders?" he continued. "How
is it that you know your subject so well? For you do know it well."

"Catholic questions always appeal to me," she said coldly. "I have no
religion, but I come from a race of politicians and soldiers--on my
mother's side. I must have an intellectual _pied a terre_, and I require
a good cause. Party politics are too parochial for me. So I am on the
side of the Vatican."

"_La reine s'amuse_," said Robert. "Is that all?"

"Yes, that's all."

She turned over the music on her writing-table and hummed some bars from
the Kyrie of Mozart's Twelfth Mass.

"If you were a Jesuit," said she, "you would try to convert me."

"St. Ignatius never wasted time over insincere women."

"I am not insincere," she said frankly. "I own I may seem so. But you
are not kind, and some day you may be sorry for this."

Her eyes filled with tears--which he noticed and attributed to fatigue.

"I wonder how men ever accomplish anything!" she exclaimed.

"Why?"

"They have no insight. They mistake self-control for coldness, and
despair for flippancy. Isn't that the case?"

"One can be light and true as well as light and false. Now you are
witty, beautiful, brilliant--but you don't always ring true."

She seemed confused for a minute, and hung her head.

"All the same," she said, suddenly, "I am always sincere with you. It is
not in my power to be so with every one. 'Fate overrules my will.'"

"That is the trouble with most of us."

Then he wished her goodbye, promising, however, to call again with
regard to the Meeting. Lord Garrow met him on the staircase.

"I congr