them.

Hot, bitter, angry words passed between them. Lord Chandos declared that
if it pleased him to go to Berlin he should go; it mattered little
whether his wife went or not; and Lady Chandos, on her side, declared
that nothing should ever induce her to go to Berlin. The result was just
what one might have anticipated--a violent quarrel. Lady Chandos
threatened to appeal to the duke. Her husband laughed at the notion.

"The duke is a great statesman and a clever man," he replied; "but he
has no power over me. If he interfered with my arrangements, in all
probability we should not meet again."

"I will appeal to him," cried Lady Marion; "he is the only friend I have
in the world."

The ring of passionate pain in her voice startled him; a sense of pity
came over him. After all, this fair, angry woman was his wife, whom he
was bound to protect.

"Marion, be reasonable," he said. "You go the wrong way to work; even
supposing I did care for some one else, you do not go the way to make me
care for you; but you are mistaken. Cease all these disagreeable
recriminations, and I will be the kindest of husbands and the best of
friends to you. I have no wish, believe me, Marion, to be anything
else."

Even then she might have become reconciled to him, and the sad after
consequences have been averted, but she was too angry, too excited with
jealousy and despair.

"Will you give up Madame Vanira for me?" she said, and husband and wife
looked fixedly at each other. "You say you will be a loving husband and
a true friend: prove it by doing this--prove it by giving up Madame
Vanira."

Lord Chandos was silent for a few minutes; then he said:

"I cannot, for this reason: Madame Vanira, as I happen to know, has had
great troubles in her life, but she is thoroughly good. I repeat it,
Marion, thoroughly good. Now, if I, as you phrase it, 'give her up,' it
would be confessing that I had done wrong. My friendship is some little
comfort to her, and she likes me. What harm is there in it? Above all,
what wrong does it inflict on you? Answer me. Has my friendship for
Madame Vanira made me less kind, less thoughtful for you?"

No answer came from the white lips of the trembling wife.

He went on:

"Why should you be foolish or narrow-minded? Why seek to end a
friendship pure and innocent? Why not be your noble self, Marion--noble,
as I have always thought you? I will tell you frankly, Madame Vanira is
going to Berlin. You know ho