us a man could
commit, but forgive me, Leone. I have repented of it in sackcloth and
ashes. Say you forgive me."

The beautiful, colorless face did not soften at the words.

"I cannot," she said; "I cannot forgive that treachery, Lance; it has
wounded me even unto death. How can I forgive it?"

"My darling--Leone--say you will pardon me. I will do anything to atone
for it."

She laid one white hand on his arm.

"You see, Lance," she said, earnestly, "it is one of those things for
which you can never atone--one that can never be undone--but one which
will brand me forever. What am I? Did you stop to think of that when
your new love tempted you? What am I? not your wife--not your widow. Oh
God, what am I?"

He drew her to him again, but this time she resisted his warm kisses.

"Leone," he said sadly, "I deserve to be shot. I hate myself--I loathe
myself. I cannot imagine how I failed in my duty and loyalty to you. I
can only say that I was young and thoughtless--easily led. Heaven help
me, I had no mind of my own, but I have suffered so cruelly and so have
you, my darling--so have you."

"I?" she replied. "When you can count the leaves in the forest, or the
sands on the seashore, you will know what I have suffered, not until
then."

Her voice died away in a melancholy cadence that to him was like the
last wailing breath of the summer wind in the trees.

CHAPTER XL.

"FORGIVE ME, LEONE."

"Lance," she said, suddenly, "or, as I ought to say, Lord Chandos--how
can I forgive you? What you ask is more than any woman could grant. I
cannot pardon the treachery which has ruined my life, which has stricken
me, without blame or fault of mine, from the roll of honorable
women--which has made me a by-word, a mark for the scorn and contempt of
others, a woman to be contemned and despised. Of what use are all the
gifts of Heaven to me, with the scarlet brand you have marked on my
brow?"

He grew white, even to the lips, as the passionate words reached his
ears.

"Leone," he cried, "for God's sake spare me. I have no defense--no
excuse; spare me; your words kill me. They are not true, my darling;
none of what happened was your fault--you were innocent and blameless as
a child; you are the same now. Would to Heaven all women were pure and
honorable as you. Say what you will to me, no punishment would be too
great for me--but say nothing yourself; never one word, Leone. Could you
forgive me? I have done you the