speech Lord Maulevrier went back to the _Philomel's_
gig, and this was his last meeting with Mr. Smithson, until they met a
year later in the beaten tracks of society.

CHAPTER XLV.

'THAT FELL ARREST, WITHOUT ALL BAIL.'

It was the beginning of August before Lesbia was pronounced equal to the
fatigue of a long journey; and even then it was but the shadow of her
former self which returned to Fellside, the pale spectre of joys
departed, of trust deceived.

Maulevrier had been very good to her, patient, unselfish as a woman, in
his ministering to the broken-hearted girl. That broken heart would be
whole again, no doubt, in the future, as many other broken hearts have
been; but the grief, the despair, the sense of hopelessness and
aimlessness in life were very real in the present. If the picturesque
seclusion of Fellside had seemed dull and joyless to Lesbia in days gone
by, it was much duller to her now. She was shocked at the change in her
grandmother, and she showed a good deal of feeling and affection in her
intercourse with the invalid; but once out of her presence Lady
Maulevrier was forgotten, and Lesbia's thoughts drifted back into the
old current. They dwelt obstinately, unceasingly upon Montesma, the man
whose influence had awakened the slumbering soul from its torpor, had
stirred the deeps of a passionate nature.

Slave-dealer, gambler, adventurer, liar--his name blackened by the
suspicion of a still darker crime. She shuddered at the thought of the
villain from whose snare she had been rescued: and yet, his image as he
had been to her in the brief golden time when she believed him noble,
and chivalrous, and true, haunted her lonely days, mixed itself with her
troubled dreams, came between her and every other thought.

Everybody was good to her. That pale and joyless face, that look of
patient, hopeless suffering which she tried to disguise every now and
then with a faint forced smile; and silvery little ripple of society
laughter, seemed unconsciously to implore pity and pardon. Lady
Maulevrier uttered no word of reproach. 'My dearest, Fate has not been
kind to you,' she said, gently, after telling Lesbia of Lady Kirkbank's
visit. 'The handsomest women are seldom the happiest. Destiny seems to
have a grudge against them. And if things have gone amiss it is I who am
most to blame. I ought never to have entrusted you with such a woman as
Georgina Kirkbank. But you will be happier next season, I hope