nse it is true.
Love is a beautiful thing to look at--an angel to outward show--with the
heart, too often, of a fiend; and it is he who leads us to that
precipice of which I spoke--the precipice of disillusion and despair."

To Lesley these words were as blasphemy, for they contradicted the whole
spirit of the teaching which she had received. But she did not dare to
contradict her mother's opinions. She looked down, and reflected dumbly
that her mother knew more about the subject than she could possibly do.
The good Sisters had talked to her about heavenly love; she had made no
fine distinctions in her mind as to the kind of love they
meant--possibly there were two kinds. And while she was considering this
knotty point, her mother began to speak again.

"I was between eighteen and nineteen," said Lady Alice, "scarcely as old
as you are now, when a new interest came into my life. My father gave
permission to a young literary man to examine our archives, which
contained much of historical value. He never thought of cautioning me to
leave the library to Mr. Brooke's sole occupation. I was accustomed to
spend much of my time there: and the stranger--Mr. Brooke--must have
heard this fact from the servants, for he begged that he might not
disturb me, and that I would frequent the library as usual. After a
little hesitation, I began to do so. My father was in London, and my
only chaperon was an old lady who was too infirm to be of much use.
Before long, I began to help Mr. Brooke in his researches and inquiries.
He was writing a book on the great Scottish families of that part of the
country, and the subject interested me. Need I tell you what followed,
Lesley? Need I explain to you the heedless selfish folly of that time? I
forgot my duty to my father, my duty to myself. I fancied I loved this
man, and I promised to marry him."

There was a light of interest in Lesley's eyes. She did not altogether
understand her mother's tone. It sounded as though Lady Alice condemned
lovers and all their ways, and such condemnation puzzled the girl, in
spite of her convent breeding. During the last few months she had been
allowed a much wider range of literature than was usual in the Sisters'
domain; her mother had requested that she should be supplied with
certain volumes of history, fiction, and poetry, that had considerably
enlarged Lesley's views of life; and yet Lady Alice's words seemed to
contradict all that the girl had previously