hand to her side for a moment, as though she
felt a sudden pain. She repeated her son's words without looking up at
him.

"Afraid of her! No, no, Lumley. I am afraid of something else, something
of which her face continually reminds me. It is the shadow of the past
which seems to follow her footsteps."

A tragic note had suddenly been struck in the conversation between
mother and son. Lord Lumley, who had been altogether unprepared for it,
was full of interest.

"The past!" he repeated. "Whose past? Tell me all about it, mother."

She looked up at him, and he saw that her face was unusually pale.

"Lumley, it is only a little while ago since your father and I told you
the story of our strange meeting and marriage. You remember it?"

"Every word! Every word, mother!"

"You remember the duel which the Count di Marioni sought to force upon
your father, but which I prevented? You remember the means which I was
driven to use to prevent it, and the oath of vengeance which
Leonardo--the Count di Marioni--swore against us both?"

"Yes."

"Lumley, twenty-five years have passed away, and he is free."

"But, Miss Briscoe?" he asked, bewildered. "How does all this concern
her?"

"She is his niece."

"His niece! his niece!"

Lord Lumley could say nothing. With all the swift selfishness of a man
his thoughts were centered round one point. Would this new development
hinder his purpose, or was it favorable to him?

"Leonardo's sister, Lumley, was my dear friend. She married a man named
Briscoe, and died very soon afterward. Margharita is their daughter,
and, Lumley, there is no English blood in her veins. She is a Marioni! I
can see his eyes and his forehead every time I look at hers. They seem
to tell me that that wild oath still lives; that some day he will
stretch out his hand and redeem that murderous threat. Lumley, there
have been times when it has terrified me to look at that girl."

His face was clearing. A smile even began to dawn upon his lips.

"Why, mother, don't you see that so far as Miss Briscoe is concerned
that is all fancy," he said. "You feel in that way toward her simply
because she happens to resemble the Count di Marioni. Isn't that a
little unfair to her? What can she know of an oath which was sworn
five-and-twenty years ago, long before she was born. Why, I don't
suppose that she ever heard of it."

She smiled a little sadly.

"Lumley, I do not attempt to defend my feeling. Of course it is