nefit in the future. As the
whole truth flashed suddenly into Zillah's mind she saw now most
clearly not only how deeply she had wronged Lord Chetwynde, but
also--and now for the first time--how foully she had insulted Guy by
her malignant accusations. To a generous nature like hers the shock
of this discovery was intensely painful. Tears started to her eyes,
she twined her arms around Lord Chetwynde's neck, and told him the
whole story, not excepting a single word of all that she had said to
Guy.

"And I told him," she concluded, "all this--I said that he was a mean
fortune-hunter; and that you had cheated papa out of his money; and
that I hated him--and oh! will you ever forgive me?"

This was altogether a new and unexpected disclosure to the Earl, and
he listened to Zillah in unfeigned astonishment. Guy had told him
nothing beyond the fact communicated in a letter--that "whatever his
future wife might be remarkable for, he did not think that amiability
was her forte." But all this revelation, unexpected though it was,
excited no feeling of resentment in his mind.

"My child," said he, tenderly, though somewhat sadly, "you certainly
behaved very ill. Of course you could not know us; but surely you
might have trusted your father's love and wisdom. But, after all,
there were a good many excuses for you, my poor little girl--so I
pity you very much indeed--it was a terrible ordeal for one so young.
I can understand more than you have cared to tell me."

"Ah, how kind, how good you are!" said Zillah, who had anticipated
some reproaches. "But I'll never forgive myself for doing you such
injustice."

"Oh, as to that," said Lord Chetwynde; "if you feel that you have
done any injustice, there is one way that I can tell you of by which
you can make full reparation. Will you try to make it, my little
girl?"

"What do you want me to do?" asked Zillah, hesitatingly, not wishing
to compromise herself. The first thought which she had was that he
was going to ask her to apologize to Guy--a thing which she would by
no means care about doing, even in her most penitent mood. Lord
Chetwynde was one thing; but Guy was quite another. The former she
loved dearly; but toward the latter she still felt resentment--a
feeling which was perhaps strengthened and sustained by the fact that
every one at Chetwynde looked upon her as a being who had been placed
upon the summit of human happiness by the mere fact of being Guy's
wife. To her i