shuddered in silence.

"Forgive me!" he cried; "I was too harsh, Valencia!"

"No!" she cried, looking up at him with a glorious smile. "Scold me! Be
harsh to me! It is so delicious now to be reproved by you!" and as she
spoke she felt as if she would rather endure torture from that man's
hand than bliss from any other. How many strange words of Lucia's that
new feeling explained to her; words at which she had once grown angry,
as doting weaknesses, unjust and degrading to self-respect. Poor Lucia!
She might be able to comfort her now, for she had learnt to sympathise
with her by experience the very opposite to hers. Yet there must have
been a time when Lucia clung to Elsley as she to Frank. How horrible to
have her eyes opened thus!--To be torn and flung away from the bosom
where she longed to rest! It could never happen to her. Of course her
Frank was true, though all the world were false: but poor Lucia! She
must go to her. This was mere selfishness at such a moment.

"You will find Scoutbush, then!"

"This moment. I will order the car now, if you will only eat. You must!"

And he rang the bell, and then made her sit down and eat, almost feeding
her with his own hand. That, too, was a new experience; and one so
strangely pleasant, that when Bowie entered, and stared solemnly at the
pair, she only looked up smiling, though blushing a little.

"Get a car instantly," said she.

"For Mrs. Vavasour, my lady? She has ordered hers already."

"No; for Mr. Headley. He is going to find my lord. Frank, pour me out a
cup of tea for Lucia."

Bowie vanished, mystified. "It's no concern of mine; but better tak' up
wi' a godly meenister than a godless pawet," said the worthy warrior to
himself as he marched down stairs.

"You see that I am asserting our rights already before all the world,"
said she, looking up.

"I see you are not ashamed of me."

"Ashamed of you?"

"And now I must go to Lucia."

"And to London."

Valencia began to cry like any baby; but rose and carried away the tea
in her hand. "Must I go? and before you come back, too?"

"Is she determined to start instantly?"

"I cannot stop her. You see she has ordered the car."

"Then go, my darling! My own! my Valencia! Oh, a thousand things to ask
you, and no time to ask them in! I can write?" said Frank, with an
inquiring smile.

"Write? Yes; every day,--twice a day. I shall live upon those letters.
Good-bye!" And out she went, while Frank sat himse