Men cannot undo the laws of God. Stand
aside, give me my place."

Words were still burning from her heart to her lips when she saw Lady
Marion holding out her hand in kindliest greeting to her; all the bitter
thoughts melted at once in the sunshine of that fair presence; her own
hand sought Lady Marion's, and the two women, whose lives had crossed
each other's so strangely, stood for one moment hand locked in hand,
their eyes fixed on each other.

Lady Marion spoke first, and she seemed to draw her breath with a deep
sigh as she did so.

"I am so pleased to see you, Madame Vanira," she said, eagerly. "We must
find time for a long talk this evening."

With a bow Leone passed on to the ballroom, where the first person to
meet her was Lord Chandos; he looked at the bouquet she carried.

"You have honored my flowers, madame," he said. "I remember your love
for lilies-of-the-valley. You will put my name down for the first
waltz?"

There was a world of reproach in the dark eyes she raised to his.

"No, I will not waltz with you," she replied, gently.

"Why not?" he asked, bending his handsome head over her.

"I might make false excuses, but I prefer telling you the truth," she
answered; "I will not trust myself."

And when Leone took that tone Lord Chandos knew that further words were
useless.

"You will dance a quadrille, at least?" he asked, and she consented.

Then he offered her his arm and they walked through the room together.

The ballroom at Stoneland House was a large and magnificent apartment;
many people thought it the finest ballroom in London; the immense dome
was brilliantly lighted, the walls were superbly painted, and tier after
tier of superb blossoms filled the room with exquisite color and
exquisite perfume.

The ballroom opened into a large conservatory, which led to a fernery,
and from the fernery one passed to the grounds. Leone felt embarrassed;
she longed to praise the beautiful place, yet it seemed to her if she
did so it would be like reminding him that it ought to have been hers;
while he, on the contrary, did not dare to draw her attention to
picture, flower, or statue, lest she should remember that they had been
taken from her by a great and grievous wrong.

"We are not very cheerful friends," he said, trying to arouse himself.

"I begin to think we have done wrong in ever thinking of friendship at
all," she replied.

Lord Chandos turned to her suddenly.

"Leone," he said, "