ill had a good heart. She was no enraged, injured woman,
thirsting for revenge upon the woman who had stolen her lover from
her--such as he had desired to find in her; she was only a true-hearted
and unhappy girl, who was not in any case likely to develop into the
instrument of vengeance which he sought for.

It was a disappointment to him, but he was not completely disheartened.
It was through her that he desired to punish Helen for daring to brave
him, and he swore to himself that he would do it still; only he must now
set about it in a different way, so he began to make love to Miss Nevill.

And Vera was shrewd enough to perceive that he was only playing a part.
Nevertheless, there were times when she felt so completely puzzled by his
persistent adoration, that she could hardly tell what to make of it. Was
he trying to make some other woman jealous? It even came into her head,
once or twice, to suspect that Cissy Hazeldine was the real object of his
devotion, so utterly incomprehensible did his conduct appear to her.

If she had been told that Lucien D'Arblet's real quest was not love, but
revenge, she would have laughed. An Englishman does not spend his time
nor his energies in plotting a desperate retaliation on a lady who has
disregarded his threats and evaded his persecution; it is not in the
nature of any Briton, however irascible, to do so; but a Frenchman is
differently constituted. There is something delightfully refreshing to
him in an atmosphere of plotting and intrigue. There is the same instinct
of the chase in both nationalities, but it is more amusing to the
Frenchman to hunt down his fellow-creatures than to pursue unhappy little
beasts of the field; and he understands himself in the pursuit of the
larger game infinitely better.

Nevertheless, Monsieur D'Arblet had no intention of getting himself into
trouble, nor of risking the just fury of an indignant British husband,
who stood six feet in his stockings, nor did he desire, by any anonymous
libel, to bring himself in any way under the arm of the law. All he meant
to do was to dig his trench and to lay his mine, to place the fuse in
Vera Nevill's hands--leave her to set fire to it--and then retire
himself, covered with satisfaction at his cleverness, to his own side
of the Channel.

Who could possibly grudge him so harmless an entertainment?

Monsieur D'Arblet, as he sat down by her side under the tulip-tree, began
by paying Miss Nevill a prettil