.

"I doubt, Lance," she said one day, "whether we have done wisely--at
least whether I have done wisely--in allowing Lady Marion to see so much
of you; she is so sweet and so gentle--I am quite distressed about it."

"Why, mother? I see no cause for distress," he said, abruptly.

"No, my dear; men all possess the happy faculty of never seeing that
which lies straight before their eyes. It is one of their special
gifts--you have it to perfection."

"Do speak out what you mean, mother; that satire of yours puzzles me.
What do I not see that I ought to see?"

"Nothing very particular. What I mean is this, Lance, that I am almost
afraid Lady Marion has been too much with us for her peace of mind. I
think, when you go back to England on this wild-goose chase of yours,
that she will feel it deeply."

He looked anxiously at her.

"Do you, mother, really think that?" he asked.

"I do, indeed. Of course I know, Lance, no words of mine will ever
avail; but it seems to me you are in this position--if you leave Lady
Marion and return to your pretty dairy-maid that Lady Marion will never
be happy again. If you marry Lady Marion and dower that young person
with a good fortune she will marry some one in her own rank of life and
be much happier than she could be with you."

"Ah, mother," he said, sadly, "you do not know Leone."

"No, and never shall; but I know one thing--if I stood in your place and
was compelled to make one or the other unhappy, I know which it would
be. In marrying Lady Marion you make yourself at once and you delight
me, you gratify every one who knows and loves you. In marrying that
tempestuous young person you cut yourself adrift from fame, friends, and
parents."

"But honor, mother, what about my honor?"

"You lose it in marrying a dairy-maid. You preserve it in marrying Lady
Marion."

And with this Parthian shot my lady left him.

CHAPTER XXXII.

AN ACT OF PERFIDY.

So--inch by inch, little by little, step by step--Lord Chandos was
influenced to give up his faith, his promise, his loyalty. I, who write
the story, offer no excuse for him--there is none for the falseness and
perfidy of men--yet it is of so common occurrence the world only jests
about it--the world makes poetry of it and sings, cheerfully:

"One foot on land and one on shore,
Men were deceivers ever."

A promise more or less, a vow more or less, a broken heart, a ruined
life, a lost soul, a crime that calls