ome day. "She is often at Lady Kynaston's receptions," he had added.

"Mon cher, take me to your Lady Kynaston's soirees," had been Lucien
D'Arblet's lazy rejoinder as they finished their evening smoke together.
"I would like to meet my friend, la belle veuve, again, and I will see if
she has forgotten me."

Bitter, very bitter, were Mrs. Romer's remorseful meditations that night
when she reached her grandfather's house at Prince's Gate. Every detail
of her acquaintance with Lucien D'Arblet came back to her with a horrible
and painful distinctness. Over and over again she cursed her own folly,
and bewailed the hardness of the fate which placed her once more in the
hands of this man.

Would he indeed keep his cruel threats to her? Would he bring forward
those letters to spoil her life once more--to prevent her from marrying
Maurice should she ever have the chance of doing so?

Stooping alone over her fire, with all the brightness, and all the
freshness gone out of her, with an old and almost haggard look in the
face that was so lately beaming with smiles and dimples, Helen Romer
asked herself shudderingly these bitter questions over and over again.

Had she been sure of Maurice's love, she would have been almost tempted
to have confessed her fault, and to have thrown herself upon his mercy;
but she knew that he did not love her well enough to forgive her. Too
well she knew with what disgust and contempt Maurice would be likely to
regard her past conduct; such a confession would, she knew, only induce
him to shake himself clear of her for ever. Indeed, had he loved her, it
is doubtful whether Maurice would have been able to condone so grave a
fault in the past history of a woman; his own standard of honour stood
too high to allow him to pass over lightly any disgraceful or
dishonourable conduct in those with whom he had to do. But, loving her
not, she would have been utterly without excuse in his eyes.

She knew it well enough. No, her only chance was in silence, and in vague
hopes that time might rescue her out of her difficulties.

Meanwhile, whilst Helen Romer sat up late into the early morning,
thinking bitterly over her past sins and her future dangers, Maurice
Kynaston and his mother also kept watch together at Walpole Lodge after
all the guests had gone away, and the old house was left alone again to
the mother and son.

"Something troubles you, little mother," said Maurice, as he stretched
himself upon the