nificently beautiful. The low dress showed
the white shining arms and shoulders like white satin. The different
emotions that surged through her whole heart and soul gave a softened
tenderness to the beautiful, passionate face.

She was a woman at whose feet a man could kneel and worship; who could
sway the heart and soul of a man as the wind sways the great branches of
strong trees.

On the morning of the day of the ball, a bouquet arrived for her, and
she knew that it held her favorite flowers, white lilies-of-the-valley,
with sweet hanging bells and gardenias that filled the whole room with
perfume. She had nerve enough to face the most critical audience in the
world.

She sung while kings and queens looked on in wonder; the applause of
great multitudes had never made her heart beat or her pulses thrill; but
as she drove to Stoneland House a faint, languid sensation almost
overcame her; how should she bear it? What should she do? More than once
the impulse almost mastered her to return, and never see Lord Chandos
again; but the pain, the fever and the longing urged her on.

It was like a dream to her, the brilliantly-lighted mansion, the rows of
liveried servants, the spacious entrance-hall lined with flowers, the
broad white staircase with the crimson carpet, the white statues holding
crimson lamps.

She walked slowly up that gorgeous staircase, every eye riveted by her
queenly beauty. She said to herself:

"All this should have been mine."

Yet, it was not envy of the wealth and magnificence surrounding her, it
was the keen pain of the outrageous wrong done to her which stung her to
the quick. Brilliantly dressed ladies passed her, and she saw that more
deference was paid to her than would have been paid to a duchess.

Then, in the drawing-room that led to the ballroom, she saw Lady Marion
in her usual calm, regal attitude, receiving her guests. The queen of
blondes looked more than lovely; her dress was of rich white lace over
pale blue silk, with blue forget-me-nots in her hair. Leone had one
moment's hard fight with herself as she gazed at this beautiful woman.

"She stands in my place, she bears my name; on her finger shines the
ring that ought to shine on mine; she has taken the love I believed to
be mine for life," said Leone to herself; "how shall I bear it?"

As she stood among the brilliant crowd, a strong impulse came over her
to go up to Lady Marion and say:

"Stand aside; this is my place.