eturned
to River View for anything belonging to her, and after some time the
countess had told her son. He went to River View and he found the house
closed and the servants gone; he made some inquiries about Leone, but
never heard anything about her. He deplored the fact--it added to his
misery over her. If he could have known that he left her well provided
for he would not have suffered half so much.

All these years he had never heard one word of her. He had thought of
her continually, more than any one would have imagined; he never knew
what it was to forget her for one minute. His heart was always sad, his
soul sorrowful, his mind ill at ease. The more he thought of it, the
more despicable his own conduct seemed. He hated the thought of it, he
loathed the very memory.

And here was the face he had seen by the mill-stream, the face which had
haunted him, the face he loved so well--here it was alight with power,
passion and genius. Could this brilliant, gifted singer be Leone, or was
he misled by a wonderful likeness? He could not understand it, he was
bewildered.

He had wondered a thousand times a day what had become of Leone; he
remembered her wonderful talent, how she read those grand old tragedies
of Shakespeare until she knew them by heart; but could it be possible
that Leone had become the finest singer and the grandest actress in the
world?

It was in the last grandly pathetic scene that their eyes met, and for
one half moment the gifted woman, on whose lightest breath that vast
crowd hung, swayed to and fro as though she would have fallen; the next
minute she was pouring out the richest streams of melody, and Lady
Chandos said:

"Is it my fancy, Lance, or was La Vanira looking at you?"

"I should say it was your fancy, Marion--La Vanira sees nothing lower
than the skies, I think."

And then the opera ended.

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

LANCE'S DETERMINATION.

"You have not much to say to me to-night, Lance," said Lady Marion, in a
tone of gentle expostulation. "I wonder if that beautiful singer was
really looking at you. It seemed to me that the moment her eyes caught
yours she faltered and almost failed."

Lord Chandos roused himself.

"Give me a woman's fancy," he said; "it is boundless as the deep sea."

"I think a beautiful singer is like a siren," continued Lady Chandos,
"she wins all hearts."

He laughed again, a tired, indifferent, reckless laugh.

"I thought we had agreed that you h