Leone was standing with her face to the window when he entered, and he
had one moment in which to look round the room--one moment in which to
control the rapid beating of his heart; then she turned suddenly, and
once more they were face to face.

Ah, to see the heaven of delight and rapture that came over hers--the
light that came into her eyes; it was as though her face was suddenly
transfigured; all the past in that one moment of rapture was forgotten,
all the treachery, the perfidy, the falsity.

She uttered one word, "Lance," but it was a cry of unutterable delight.
"Lance," she repeated, and then, with all the light of heaven still
shining in her face, she hid her face on his breast. She did not
remember, she only knew that it was the face of her lost lover, the same
strong, tender arms were clasped round her, the same warm kisses were on
her face, the same passionate, loving heart was beating near her own.
Ah, Heaven, how sweet that one moment was. To die while it lasted, never
to leave the shelter of those dear arms again. She had waited for him
for years, and he had come at last.

There were a few minutes of silent, rapturous greeting, and then,
suddenly, she remembered, and sprung from him with a low cry.

"How dare you?" she cried, "I had forgotten. How dare you?"

Then the sight of the beloved face, the dear eyes, the well-remembered
figure, took all the hot anger from her.

"Oh, Lance, Lance, I ought not to speak to you or look at you, and yet I
cannot help it. God help me, I cannot help it."

He was down on his knees by her side, clasping her hands, the folds of
her dress, crying out to her to pardon him; that he had no excuse to
offer her; he had been guilty beyond all guilt; that neither in heaven
nor on earth could there be any pardon for him; that he would have died
a hundred deaths rather than have lost her.

For some five minutes it was a mad whirl of passion, love and regret.
She was the first to recollect herself, to say to him:

"Lord Chandos, you must not kneel there; remember you have a wife at
home."

The words struck him like a sharp sword. He arose and, drawing a chair
for her, stood by her side.

"I am beside myself," he said, "with the pleasure of seeing you again.
Forgive me, Leone; I will not offend. Oh, what can I say to you? How can
I look upon your face and live?"

"You were very cruel to me and very treacherous," she said; "your
treachery has spoiled my life. Oh, Lanc