other husband, after such a man as I have lost! I
should be a monster. Oh, Lord Tadcaster, you have been so kind to me; so
sympathizing. You made me believe you loved my Christopher, too; and now
you have spoiled all. It is too cruel."

"Oh! Mrs. Staines, do you think me capable of feigning--don't you see my
love for you has taken you by surprise? But how could I visit you--look
on you--hear you--mingle my regrets with yours; yours were the deepest,
of course; but mine were honest."

"I believe it." And she gave him her hand. He held it, and kissed it,
and cried over it, as the young will, and implored her, on his knees,
not to condemn herself to life-long widowhood, and him to despair.

Then she cried, too; but she was firm; and by degrees she made him see
that her heart was inaccessible.

Then at last he submitted with tearful eyes, but a valiant heart.

She offered friendship timidly.

But he was too much of a man to fall into that trap. "No," he said: "I
could not, I could not. Love or nothing."

"You are right," said she, pityingly. "Forgive me. In my selfishness and
my usual folly, I did not see this coming on, or I would have spared you
this mortification."

"Never mind that," gulped the little earl. "I shall always be proud I
knew you, and proud I loved you, and offered you my hand."

Then the magnanimous little fellow blessed her, and left her, and
discontinued his visits.

Mr. Lusignan found her crying, and got the truth out of her. He was in
despair. He remonstrated kindly, but firmly. Truth compels me to say
that she politely ignored him. He observed that phenomenon, and said,
"Very well then, I shall telegraph for Uncle Philip."

"Do," said the rebel. "He is always welcome."

Philip, telegraphed, came down that evening; likewise his little black
bag. He found them in the drawing-room: papa with the Pall Mall Gazette,
Rosa seated, sewing, at a lamp. She made little Christie's clothes
herself,--fancy that!

Having ascertained that the little boy was well, Philip, adroitly hiding
that he had come down torn with anxiety on that head, inquired with a
show of contemptuous indifference, whose cat was dead.

"Nobody's," said Lusignan crossly. Then he turned and pointed the
Gazette at his offspring. "Do you see that young lady stitching there so
demurely?"

Philip carefully wiped and then put on his spectacles.

"I see her," said he. "She does look a little too innocent. None of them
are really s