mation, drew her to him, kissed her on
the brow, and then, releasing her, turned away.

'I might have known--what you would do,' he said, in a muffled voice.

'I ought to have done it long ago,' she said, passionately; then,
immediately curbing herself, she turned deliberately to a vase of
roses that stood near and began to rearrange them, picking out a few
faded blooms and throwing them on the wood-fire.

Lord Findon watched her, the delicate, drooping figure in its grey
dress, the thin hand among the roses.

'Eugenie!--tell me one thing!--you are in the same mind as ever about
the divorce?'

She made a sign of assent.

'Just the same. I am Albert's wife--unless he himself asks me to
release him--and then the release would only be--for him.'

'You are too hard on yourself, Eugenie!' cried Lord Findon. 'I vow you
are! You set an impossible standard.'

'I am his wife'--she repeated, gently--'while he lives. And if he sent
for me--at any hour of the day or night--I would go.'

Lord Findon gave an angry sigh.

'You can't wonder, Eugenie,' he said, impetuously, 'that I often wish
his death.'

A shudder ran through her.

'Don't, papa! Never, never wish that. He loves life so.'

'Yes!--now that he has ruined yours.'

'He didn't mean to,' she said, almost inaudibly. 'You know what I
think.'

Lord Findon restrained himself. In his eyes there was no excuse
whatever for his scoundrel of a son-in-law, who after six years of
marriage had left his wife for an actress, and was now living with
another woman of his own class, a Comtesse S., ten years older than
himself. He knew that Eugenie believed her husband to be insane;
as for him, he had never admitted anything of the kind. But if it
comforted her to believe it, let her, for Heaven's sake, believe
it--poor child!

So he said nothing--as he paced up and down--and Eugenie finished the
rearrangement of the roses. Then she turned to him, smiling.

'You didn't know I saw Elsie yesterday?'

'Did she confide in you?'

'Oh, that--long ago! The poor child's dreadfully in love.'

'Then it's a great responsibility,' said Lord Findon, gravely. 'How is
he going to satisfy her?'

'Only too easily. She would marry him blindly--on any terms.'

There was a short silence. Then Eugenie gathered up the letter she had
been reading when her father entered.

'Let's talk of something else, papa! Do you know that I've had a very
interesting letter from Mr. Fenwick this afte