on, and your fancies are not
always correct."

She was one of the sweetest and most amiable of women, no one ever saw
her ruffled or impatient. She went up to him now with the loveliest
smile, and laid her fair arms round his neck; the very heaven of repose
was in the eyes she raised to his.

"My darling Lance," she said, "I can never have any fancy over you; my
thoughts about you are always true." She laid one slim, white hand on
his face. "Why, your face burns now," she said, and he made some little
gesture of impatience, and then his heart smote him. She was so fair, so
gentle, and loved him so dearly.

"Have I vexed you, Lance?" she said. "I did not mean to do so. If you do
not like me to ask you where you are going, I will not, but it seems to
me such a simple thing."

"How can I object, or, rather, why should I object to tell you where I
go, Marion? Here is my note-book; open it and read."

But when he said the words he knew that on his note-book there was no
mention of Leone's name, and again his heart smote him. It was so very
easy to deceive this fair, trusting woman. Lady Chandos put the
note-book back in his pocket.

"I do not want to see it, Lance. I merely asked you the question because
you looked so very nice, and you have chosen such a beautiful flower. I
thought you were going to pay some particular visit."

He kissed the sweet, wistful face raised to his, and changed the
subject.

"Do I not always look what you ladies call 'nice'?" he asked,
laughingly; and she looked admiringly at him.

"You are always nice to me, Lance; there is no one like you. I often
wonder if other wives are as proud of their husbands as I am of you? Now
I shall try to remember that you do not like me to ask you where you are
going. The greatest pleasure I have on earth is complying with every
little wish of yours."

He could not help kissing her again, she was so sweet, so gentle, so
kind, yet his heart smote him. Ah, Heaven! if life had been different to
him; if he had been but firmer of purpose, stronger of will! He left her
with an uneasy mind and a sore heart.

Lady Marion was more than usually thoughtful after he had gone. She
could not quite understand.

The time had been when he had never left the house without saying
something about where he was going; now his absences were long, and she
did not know where his time was spent.

Lady Lanswell noticed the unusual shadow on the girl's sweet face, and
in her