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A
WOMAN'S TEMPTATION
A NOVEL.
P<\.o^X»Z&- ?/S^a^yy'l~e-
BY BERTHA M. CLAYc^o^-
0
author of
" Thrown on the World," "Lady Darner's Secret," " A Bittet
Atonement," " Evelyn's Folly," "Love Works
Wonders," Etc.
"Ah, Zelica I there was a time, when bliss
Shone o'er thy heart from every look of his;
When but to see him, hear him, breathe the air
In which he dwelt, was thy soul's fondest prayer 1"
—Lalla Rookh.
NEW YORK:
JOHN W. LOVELL COMPANY,
14. and 16 Vesf.y Street.
ASM
TR0W3
PRINTING AND BOOKBINDING COMPAI**,
NEW YORK.
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
CHAPTER I.
"if i could only die and end it all."
Madame de St. Lance sat alone in her own room,
an apartment that long years ago had been the bou¬
doir of the most beautiful and most noble the Duchess
of Vallentinois. Even in its wreck the room was won¬
derful. It was of an octagon shape, containing eight
flower-wreathed windows, and each window had once
been draped in the richest rose brocade—it hung there
still, tattered and worn. The painted ceiling had lost
its vivid coloring ; the gorgeously decorated panels were
chipped and broken. There was an English grate, with
a magnificent marble mantelpiece, a mass of elaborate
and beautiful sculpture, almost destroyed by wreck
and decay; a small fire burned there now, and a
lighted lamp stood on the table; yet neither drove
away the look of desolation and grandeur in decay.
Madame de St. Lance had been reading, but the
book, Lamartine's " Genevieve," had lost all charm.
She laid it down and walked to one of the windows ; she
unfastened it, and the rose-scented evening breeze came
in. It refreshed her ; it broke up the dead calm of
monotony and despair that seemed to have settled upon
her.
How fair it was that beautiful, fruitful land of France !
How fair this llowery land of Provence, where the very
6
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
air seemed freighted with perfume and music!—that
calm, sweet Provencal night, with its myriads of golden
stars, its bright-shining moon, its flower-laden breeze,
its roses, lilies, and vines !—surely one of the fairest
spots on the face of the beautiful earth.
The tired eyes gazed over the fair, sweeping land,
while something of the calm of the moonlight came
over the wearied heart.
"If I could only die and end it all!" said Madame
de St. Lance. " Die and be buried in some quiet
corner where the rose leaves might fall on my grave.
Die and end the struggle that is worse than death."
To die ! There are people who doubt the immor¬
tality of the soul and yet, in deepest grief, in sorrow,
in anguish and despair, our thoughts turn to death, that
key to another and brighter life.
" So few," murmured the lady, "live but for one
hope. I have but one—my little Reine. Wealth,
position, honor, land, title, husband, and friends are all
lost, even the royal cause for which we suffered so
severely is lost, and nothing remains to me but my
daughter. I have heard wonderful stories where a frail,
delicate girl has restored the fallen honors of a good
race; is it for that Reine has been spared to me ? "
The idea, even while it aroused, cheered and soothed
her. She closed the window and returned to her seat
by the fireside.
Now that the lamp-light falls full upon her, one may
see that there is some faint similarity between the lady
and the room. She also looks like the wreck of some
great and beautiful queen. She is a thorough aristocrat
She has the unmistakable air of the grandc nob/cssc,
that manner which no money can purchase, no art imi¬
tate; it only comes from the refinement of long genera¬
tions. Looking at Madame de St. Lance one could tell
that she was born of a noble race, that she had lived in
the atmosphere of a court, that she had associated with
the noble, the gallant, and the gay.
Her figure, tall, dignified, and well-developed, full of
regal grace and dignity, is clothed in a dress of deepes*
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
7
mourning ; a fitting dress for one who mourns a dead
husband and a lost cause. No queen ever carried her
state robes with more dignity, or looked more royal in
them.
The lamp-light falls upon a grand face, one that in
its youth must have been sparkling and lovely ; a pure
Norman face, oval in shape, delicate in contour, and
exquisite in coloring. But the dark eyes, once so starry
bright, are shadowed and mournful; the lips on whose
smile the noblest of the land once hung enraptured are
pale, and have round them lines that tell of deep care
and woe. The dark hair is brushed back from the
white brow, and carelessly fastened ; but the face, de¬
spite its beauty, has a look that in repose is almost
terrible—the look of a restless soul, of a soul wearing it¬
self away with bitter repining, with disconsolate weari¬
ness, and unendurable ennui; the soul of a brilliant,
beautiful woman, born to shine, to exact homage, to
rule and to sway, yet doomed to death in life.
The white hands that hold the book are perfect in
shape and in color. They sparkled once with gems fit
for a queen. Now one plain golden ring shines on them,
and that seems in danger of dropping off.
Madame de St. Lance resumes her book, and the
little clock chimes eight. She looked up and the weari¬
ness on her face deepened.
:'Only eight; and each hour of this day has seemed
to me like an age. What am I to do till eleven or
twelve ?"
It seemed almost like an answer to her question
when a rap came to the door.
" Come in," said madame, in her clear, rich voice ;
and then entered the old servant, Janette, carrying a
tray in her hands.
" I trust madame will not be angry," said the woman,
as she placed the tray upon the table ; then one quick,
keen glance round showed her the desolate state of the
room. She gavt *he fire a touch that provoked a merry
blaze; she trimmed the lamp, and so nearly doubled the
light.
s
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
" I noticed that madame hardly touched her dinner,
and I have taken a liberty. I made a cup of coffee,
and have brought a bit of white roll, with a bunch of
our finest grapes ; and I pray madame to eat."
It had come to this!—she who had smiled while
princes and nobles waited upon her with the daintiest
of luxuries, was thankful for the care and attention of
this old servant.
Madame thanked the old woman in her grateful,
dignified manner, and the servant withdrew.
Once more Madame de St. Lance was alone ; but
the cheerless gloom and desolation had vanished ; the
fire burned brightly ; the lamp cast a full, brilliant light
on the painted ceiling and the old-fashioned tapestry ;
the coffee yielded a fragrant aroma, and there was a fine
purple bloom on the grapes.
It was but an humble meal, yet madame seemed to
enjoy it. She ate the white roll and the grapes, reading
the while ; then she drank the coffee. Its warmth
and strength seemed to revive her.
" If I am to live and work for Reine," she said, " I
must not starve myself as I have been doing. How
little I knew of the weakness produced by mere
physical want! "
Then madame sat with the firelight playing on
her black silk dress and her white hands. The sweet
southern wind seemed to have died away, and there
came the sound of a stronger breeze from the pinewoods
•—a wind that had something mournful in its sound.
She shivered as she heard it.
"It is a lonely place, this old chateau," she said,
then suddenly paused, for the sound of carriage wheels
fell on her ear, and she staged up in wonder, not un¬
mixed with alarm.
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
9
CHAPTER II.
"i bring mv little daughter."
Madame de St. Lance heard the sound as of
some important arrival. Inclination prompted her to
run down and see what it was ; dignity told her to
stand quite still. Suddenly the door opened, and
Janette, with less ceremony than usual, entered the
room.
" Madame ! " she cried, " a gentleman—an English
milor, I am sure—asks the honor of seeing you."
Madame took the card and read the name.
" Lord Clancey." The name was quite unknown to
her; but something of the old courtly grace that had
once made her so famous came over her as she read.
"Ask the gentleman to walk up stairs, Janette," she
said. " I will receive him here."
She saw Janette's eyes wander from the faded ceil¬
ing to the worn tapestry. She smiled.
"It is of no consequence," she said ; "this room is
not so cold as the others."
" The gentleman has a little child with him—a little
girl. One would take her to be about four years of
age."
" Good ! " said madame. " Do not keep the gentle¬
man waiting."
She was too proud to go, as some woman would
have gone, to the glass. She did not appear to bestow
one thought upon herself—how she looked, or anything
of the kind ; but she stood still, with a puzzled look
"upon her face.
" Clancey ! " she said to herself ; " it seems to me
that I have heard the name." ♦
She was looking back into the annals of that bril
10
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
liar-, r past, when she had received princes and peers in
her gorgeous saloons.
Clancey ! Have I heard the name, or have I only
dreamed it ? "
As she stood there in the grandeur of her faded
beauty, the wind wailing round the chateau, there came
to her no warning of the great ana terrible tragedy that
was to be worked out in her life.
She looked up when her visitor entered—a young,
handsome man, dressed in deep mourning, and leading
a little child by the hand. He bowed low before the
stately, dignified lady
" Madame de St. Lance," he said, in a low, well-
modulated voice, " I can hqrdly hope thatyou remember
my name."
She smiled.
" I seem to have some vague recollection of it," she
said, quietly.
" I never had the pleasure of meeting you myself;
but my uncle, the late Lord Clancey, of Neversleigh
was well known to the Comte de St. Lance, in Paris,
ten years ago.""
A sudden light came over her face.
" I remember," she said, " a tall, elderly gentleman,
with white hair. He used to talk to us very often of
his nephew and his heir, Mr. Ruthven."
" I was Mr. Ruthven, and I am now Lord Clancey,"
said the gentleman ; " and, madame, I am come to solicit
from you a great favor."
She bowed, and begged her visitor to be seated.
He took a chair, still holding the child by the hand ;
then he placed it on his knee,
" I must first offer you, madame, my most earnest
sympathy. I heard, years ago, of your terrible reverses."
" Yes," she replied ; "we were true and loyal to a
fallen cause. No reverses could have been greater thai}
ours."
"You saved nothing, then, from the wreck?"
" Nothing," she replied. " Our estates were confis¬
cated. They are divided now, and have passed into
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION. it
Other hands. Our title is extinct, our name perhaps
forgotten."
" It lives in the annals of France, madame," he said,
sadly.
"Yes; but not in the minds of men. We saved
from the vast possessions of the Lances but two things
—-our honor and my jewel-case." She smiled bitterly.
" I had just time, while the mob surrounded the gates
of the chateau, to get my jewel-case ; it contained dia¬
monds of great value. Some were sent to one of our
ancestors by Catherine the Great, Empress of Russia.
There was a necklace of some value, given by an Em¬
press of Austria. I saved those, but nothing else. We
escaped to England, and sold them there. But for
those jewels, Lord Clancey, we must have perished of
hunger."
" It is terrible to think of," he said, with a shudder ;
" but why did you not appeal to your friends ?"
"The St. Lances could never accept alms," she said,
quietly. "Your gray English skies and leaden aii
helped to kill my husband. He could not bear the fogs
the cold, the rain ; he was pining for our bright, sunny
France; so when all danger was over, we came here to
Provence in disguise. We had money left, and this old
chateau was to let. The rent was very little, for it is a
lonely, isolated place. We took it, and here my hus¬
band died—wore his noble heart away in exile, sorrow,
poverty, and desolation. The St. Lances have served
France well, yet the last of them died here, in exile and
alone."
She paused for one minute, unable to say more ;
but no tear dimmed those proud eyes—she had shed
too many.
" My husband died just two years since ; my little
Reine is now nearly five years old. The money that I
had for my diamonds lasted until last year ; when it was
all gone, I advertised for pupils."
" And you have plenty, I hope ?" he said.
No ; I have but few. I make sufficient to meet
iny wants and expenses, but no more."
12
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
" I was in Paris last week," said Lord Clancey, " and
there I heard that you were living at the Chateau Ro-
siere, in Provence, where you took charge of a few pu¬
pils ; and hearing that, madame, has brought me here
to you."
Then there was silence for some minutes, during
which the mournful wail of the wind was plainly heard.
Lord Clancey looked at the little child, then at the lady ;
but her white hands were folded on her black dress,
and her thoughts were far away.
" I must place a confidence in you, madame," said
Lord Clancey, " that I have placed in no one else, and it
relates to mv little daughter here."
" Your daughter ! " she said. " Ah, then you are
married, Lord Clancey."
" It is of that I wanted to speak to you madame. I
must tell you my story, and then you will understand.
" I was always brought up," he continued, " in habits
of luxury, as my uncle's heir. No expense was spared
over me ; I was allowed to do just as I liked ; some day
or other I was to be Lord Clancey, and what I did mat¬
tered little. I was entirely dependent on my uncle,
and he was very kind, very generous to me, with one
exception—he would insist that I was to marry to please
him, and not to please myself. I fell in love, madame ;
but the girl I loved was poor and obscure. Her name
was Alice Luttrel, and she was the daughter of a school¬
master living in a small town near Neversleigh. I told
my uncle that I loved her, and his fury knew no bounds ;
it was something terrible."
" I can imagine it," said madame, with a sad smile.
" He told me very plainly that if I married her, he
would disinherit me. Brought up to consider myself
his heir, knowing nothing of any profession, not having
one shilling in the world independent of him, there was
but one resource for me. A coward's resource, you
will say, madame. It may be so ; better Jo be a cow¬
ard than break a woman's heart. I married Alice pri¬
vately, and brought her over to PVance. She became
my wife ; my uncle thought she had met with a worse
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
13
fate. I lived very happily with her for one year ; then
this little one was born, and to avert my uncle's suspi¬
cions, I was obliged to return to England.
" Madame, I do not seek to excuse myself from
blame ; I have been wrong all through. I was wrong
to marry in a secret, underhand manner ; and I did
wrong afterward by not perhaps neglecting, but from
my long absences from my wife. She pined away, and
I could not leave my uncle. Six months since my
uncle died, and I was engaged incessantly for some
weeks in arranging affairs.
" I had resolved then upon bringing my wife and
child home, acknowledging my marriage, and making
all amends to Alice. That was my intention ; but when
I reached the pretty little village where I had left my
wife, I found her dying. No effort could save her. She
had pined and sorrowed until there was not the least
hope of her recovery, and the third day after my arrival
she died. I was left with my little Nina. I need not
tell you of my grief, of the- bitterness of the blow
that overwhelmed me. I buried my wife in the pretty
cemetery of the village, and there my love-story ended.
I thought it useless to avow my marriage. It could do
no good ; it would only raise a storm and tempest of
gossip and scandal, detestable to me. If Alice had
lived, I would have braved it all ; but Alice was dead
and there was nothing to be gained, so that I deter¬
mined to keep that which had been secret so long secret
still. No one knows anything of it. I left my little Nina
under the care of a very faithful and affectionate nurse.
I heard last week that the nurse was ill. I hastened
over ; the nurse is dead, and, madame, I bring my little
daughter to you."
14
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
CHAPTER III.
THE CHARGE ACCEPTED.
Lord Clancey raised the little one in his arms.
" She is a pretty, loving, gentle child, quite Trench.
She does not seem to remember one word of English,
if ever she has spoken any. She is a graceful and re¬
fined child, with whom you may safely allow your own
daughter to associate ; and, madame, the great wish of
my heart is to place her under your charge."
Madame de St. Lance bowed ; there was no emotion
either of pleasure or displeasure in her face.
" I accept the charge, Lord Clancey," she said.
" I am deeply grateful to you, madame. Now will
you allow me to enter into explanations and to discuss
terms ? The Neversleigh estates are entailed, they can
only pass to a male heir, consequently little Nina here
is not, and never would be, my heiress. The daughters
of the House of Clancey are always provided for by
money saved from the income ; in that same way I in¬
tend to provide for my daughter Nina. She shall be
amply dowered ; but, madame, this is where I require
help. I have never acknowledged my marriage, and it's
too late now; besides which, I have frankly told you,
madame, I am averse to'it. I am proud and sensitive.
I should not care to hear all the remarks and sneers, the
scandal and comment. I wish, indeed it is now my firm
determination, to keep my marriage a profound secret ;
but that secret shall not be to the detriment of my child.
Madame, will you adopt her ? Will you bring her up as
your own child ? Will you let her bear your name ?
And will you promise that she shall never hear from you
this, the true story of her parentage ? "
Madame was silent for a few minutes, and then she
said, quietly :
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
" I do not quite like it, Lord Clancey ; it does not
seem to me quite fair."
" I am sure, madame," he interrupted, eagerly, " that
you will allow me to be the best judge of that. My
marriage, as I have told you frankly, was a great mis¬
take. My poor Alice was all unfit to be Lady Clancey.
I did her no wrong. I married her and suffered for my
folly. Lam a just man, madame; and it seems to me
that if I give to her daughter a good education and a
liberal portion, I shall be doing full justice."
Madame looked thoughtful.
" You are, perhaps, the best judge," she said, slowly.
" Pray proceed, Lord Clancey."
"I shall secure the sum of five hundred pounds per
annum to my daughter, three hundred to be paid to
you for her board and education, two hundred for her
expenses ; and this arrangement I should wish to con¬
tinue in force till she is eighteen ; then I shall arrange
for her dowry."
Madame murmured something ; Lord Clancey could
not tell what. Three hundred pounds a year ! It was
untold riches to her. It meant freedom from cares,
from privations, from poverty ; it meant ease and free¬
dom, all that Reine required, and all that she wanted
herself; it meant good food and generous wine. Why
not take it ? If she refused, the offer would simply be
made to some one else.
" I shall require from you, madame, a faithful prom¬
ise that you will never, under any circumstances—ex¬
cept, of course, with my free permission—divulge one
word of this story to my daughter. She is too young
now to retain any recollection, even the faintest, of her
mother or myself. The memory of the past will all die
away from her ; she need never know but that she is
indeed and in truth your own child. Your daughter is
too young to remember, and they will grow up sisters.
Do you agree, madame ? "
There was a few minutes' sore struggle between the
pride of the aristocrat and the need of the woman.
More than once she was tempted to say " No—that
16 A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
such a charge was unworthy of a St. Lance." Hut three
hundred a year ! no trouble over the rent-day ; plenty
of peace—pride must submit. After all, she remem¬
bered, a king had once turned schoolmaster. Lord
Clancey watched her keenly as she held the silent de¬
bate in her mind.
" I accept the charge," she said slowly; "and I will
be quite true to my trust. Your daughter' shall be
brought up as my child."
" I thank you," he said ; " I could not ask better
fortune for her. And now, madame, let me speak quite
freely to you. I shall have all needful documents drawn
out at once, so that there may never be any delay over
the money ; and pray remember that I do not wish at
any time to influence you in any of your plans ; go
where you like, and form any plans you like. There is
only one condition I should like to make. For the sake
of drawing up the needful documents and placing this
money in my daughter's name, I shall be compelled to
tell my story to my lawyers, Messrs. Carstone & Leach,
of Lincoln's Inn. If you will be good enough, madame,
to write once or twice in the year, saying how and
where my daughter is, I shall be well satisfied. There
need not be any allusion to me in your letters; only
state formally the condition of your charge."
" I will undertake to do that," said madame. Then she
looked curiously at him.
" And you my lord," she said, " do you feel no sorrow
at parting with the child ? "
" Most certainly ; but it is better for me—better for
her. I may speak frankly to you, Madame de St. Lance.
It is highly probable that I may shortly marry again.
I have admitted to you that my first marriage was a
foolish, boyish mistake. I have seen a lady, beautiful
and noble, who has won from me all the strength of
my manhood, who has won my heart, and the deepest
love of my soul. I do not care that she should know
the story of my boyish, foolish infatuation."
" I understand," said the clear, rich voice of madame.
" Next week I will have forwarded to you all needful
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
<7
documents. You can sign them, keep some, and return
others."
Then Lord Clancey took out his pocket-book.
" I did not care to encumber myself with any lug¬
gage," he said, " so that I have not brought any clothes
for the child. Here is a note for fifty pounds, madame ;
will you provide for her what she requires ? Here
also is the first half-year's payment, making two
hundred pounds altogether."
Madame's white fingers trembled over the money ;
it seemed so little to him, it meant so rnueh to her.
" I will give you a receipt, Lord Clancey," she said.
But he smiled.
" There is no need to give yourself the trouble,
madame—that will do for the lawyers. I thank you
very much for your kindness and patience ; I thank you
still more for'granting my request."
" May I offer you some refreshment ? "asked Madame
de St. Lance.
He thanked her, but declined.
" I must be in England in thirty-six hours, if possible,"
he said ; "-every moment is precious to me. I have
kept my carriage waiting at the Chateau gates."
Then Lord Clancey raised the child in his arms,
and gave her to madame. The little one looked up into
the proud, stately face with something of fear in her own.
The young father bent down and kissed her; something
dimmed his eyes, and a sob died away on his lips.
"You will be very kind to her, madame, my poor
little Nina ? " he said gently.
" She shall be to me as my own child," said the
lady ; and the little one seemed to understand some¬
thing of the words, for she nestled her little head in the
lady's neck.
" Good-by," said the father, as he kissed the child.
" Farewell, madame ; you have made me your debtor
for life."
The next moment he was gone, and, but for the
child on her knee and the money on the table, she might
have thought it all a dream.
is
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
CHAPTER IV.
a terrible mistake.
Time had been when Hubert Ruthven had found
himself more sought after than any man in London.
He was known to be the heir of Lord Arncourt, of
Neversleigh, than whom England knew no wealthier or
more potent peer.
Hubert Ruthven was a prize. There was not a fair
face in London that had not brightened for him.
Mothers concluded long, eloquent lectures by saying :
" If, my dear Ethelrida, I could live to see you Lady
Arncourt, I should die contented."
Brunette and blonde, hoiden and blue-stocking had
all been placed before him in their best aspect, beautiful
belles had smiled, sung, and danced for him ; but,
though Mr. Ruthven had the most profound veneratior
for all the fair sex, not one had touched his heart.
Perhaps he had been too early dazzled by all the
genius and charms, the beauty and grace, that had been
brought to bear upon him. He evinced no particular
interest in any one. And Lord Arncourt began to
grow anxious about the future of his nephew.
" I have remained single," he would say, " because I
am—I freely confess it—a selfish Sybarite. You must
not do the same, Hubert. / decided long ago, in my
own mind, that women were very charming for a short
space of time, but that a house was decidedly more com¬
fortable without them. I could not endure the thought
of all the patience, the fuss, the nonsense required to
keep a wife in good temper ; but, emphatically, Hubert,
mind, your ideas must be different to mine."
" They are different, uncle," replied Mr. Ruthven,
with a smile.
" I knew," continued Lord Arncourt, " that you
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
19
would be my heir. There was no need for me to wear
what I consider the very heavy chains of Hymen.
Your case is different. You succeed me ; but, remem¬
ber, if you should die childless, everything goes to Erie
Chilvers, and that would prevent me from resting
quietly even in my grave."
" I assure you, uncle," said Hubert Ruthven, gravely,
" that I have not the least objection to marriage ; the
only difficulty that I can see is, among so many beautiful
and graceful women, which to choose."
" What do you find in Blanche Carrington to which
any reasonable man could object ? " asked Lord Arn-
court.
" Too much dazzle and glitter. A man's life would
be worn away in no time."
"There is Evelyn Rainten no one could say the
same thing of her."
" Too sweet," was the brief reply ; " she has the
same agreeable smile for every one, and agrees with
everything said. I should die of inanition."
"Lady Ethel Langham," suggested Lord Arncourt
"A woman of one idea, and that idea how many
miles of waltzing she can get through in one night."
" Hubert," said his ancle, solemnly, looking anxiously
at him, " are you seeking for an ideal woman ? Bej
cause if you are, let me assure you, you will not find one.
What makes woman so charming ?—the fact that she is
a mass of contradictions, a mixture of virtues and faults ;
without the faults, she would be simply unendurable."
" I never thought of an ideal woman," replied Hu-
bert; "but I have an old-fashioned idea that I should
like to be loved for my own sake ; as my life would have
to be spent with the woman I married, I should most
certainly like to make a wise and prudent choice."
Lord Arncourt sighed pityingly.
" You must bear one thing in mind, Hubert, if you
were my own son I could not love you more dearly; but
if you should marry so as to disappoint me—through
any quixotic nonsense—I should consider it my solemn
20
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
duty to disinherit you, and adopt Eric Chilvers, much
as 1 dislike him, in your place."
" Have no fear, uncle ; I will not disappoint you.
You have been very kind to me."
" You must increase your importance by marriage.
England boasts no prouder title than Lord Arncourt, of
Neversleigh; but if you could add to the importance
of the name by a good marriage, it would be a most ex¬
cellent thing. Lady Ethel Langham, the Duke of
Langmuirstied's daughter—who could be better than
she ?"
We therefore see that it was with a perfect under¬
standing of his fate in all its branches, that Hubert
Ruthven made that terrible mistake in his life.
There could not have been any position more envi¬
able than that of Hubert Ruthven. Lord Arncourt
made him what was in reality a magnificent allowance ;
but with his strange, quaint love of freedom from all
restraint, he would not have his heir to live with him.
" I prefer being quite alone," he would say, when
Hubert suggested even a long visit. " Life would be
nothing to me without freedom ; the restraint of a visi¬
tor would not suit me."
Although he always insisted upon this one idea of
living quite alone, Hubert had the option of living at
any place where his uncle was not. If Lord Arncourt
was in Scotland, Hubert resided at Neversleigh ; when
his uncle used to go there, Mr. Ruthven went to Lon¬
don.
Every possible source of pleasure was open to the
man ; rich, free, young, handsome, with one of the
finest possessions in England before him, and nothing
to do in return for it all but to marry to please his
uncle.
" Never mind money," Lord Arncourt \yould say, at
times, " you have not to think of that; noble birth is
what you want in a wife. To tell you a secret, Hubert,"
he continued, " I have never spent more than half my
income ; the remainder has been accumulating until it
forms a colossal fortune by itself. It shall be all yours
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
21
if you please me, so that you can dispense with money
in a wife, but you cannot dispense with high birth and
noble blood."
That truth was repeated and repeated until it be¬
came duly impressed on Hubert's mind ; yet, for all that,
it did not prevent the catastrophe.
Lord Arncourt, who had probably gratified every
whim that it was possible for the heart of man to conceive,
suddenly took a fancy for making a collection of Roman
cameos. He imagined himself to be a perfect judge of
cameos, and he was determined that the " Arncourt
cameos" should be known all over England.
To indulge this caprice it. was needful that he should
go to Rome. Mr. Ruthven was sent for.
" I shall probably be away one year, perhaps two, for
I intend my collection to be unrivaled, and I want you
to reside the whole time at Neversleigh. At the town,
Neverstay, there are several things on hand. The new
schools are finished, but they have to be opened ; and,
by the way, Hubert, you must get a good master for
them. Do not spare money ; they are my gift to the
town, and I like things done liberally."
Lord Arncourt went on to mention several other
things that required attention. And all unconscious of
what was in. store for him, Hubert listened attentively,
promising to carry out his uncle's wishes to the very
letter.
" Remember," said Lord Arncourt, " that you are
my representative, and do not be afraid of dispensing
hospitalities. I shall be pleased to hear of all kinds of
gayeties, balls, dinners, fetes—anything you like ; but
remember the most pleasing news you can send me will
be of your engagement and coming'marriage."
" I really hope that I may be so fortunate." said
Hubert.
" I am told that the Duke of Ormescombe is about
to purchase Herensley Park ; it is said that his daughter,
Lady Grace Morelton, who was presented this year, is
one of the most lovely girls in England. The great
wish of my heart is that you may marry her."
22
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
As Hubert watched the generous, open-handed, yet
selfish man, depart, he did wish that late might be kind
to him, and that he might love and marry so to please,
his strange, liberal, cynical uncle.
When Lord Arncourt was gone, he took up his
abode at Neversleigh Abbey, and busied himself in car¬
rying out all his uncle's instructions.
The first thing of course was the schools; but if he
had known the trouble, the sorrow, and remorse that was
to come to him over those schools, he would have fled
far from Neversleigh.
He advertised for a capable master—not a young
man ; he was too young himself to have much care for
youth. In reply he was inundated with letters.
From the midst of countless numbers he chose one
signed John Luttrell—a well-written, well-expressed,
concise, business letter. The writer avowed himself
capable of conducting a school ; he had received a first-
class education, and only desired one thing—a quiet
resting-place where he could work and live in peace.
The letter pleased Mr. Ruthven. So little did he
think it was an instrument of fate, he answered it, and
the result-was the engagement of John Luttrell as mas¬
ter for the Neverstay schools, at a salary of two hun¬
dred per annum, house and garden included.
Mr. Luttrell was to commence his duties toward the
close of June, the school was to be opened by the rec¬
tor, and a grand tea-party given to the pupils by way of
inauguration.
If any one had warned Hubert Ruthven of the result,
he would have fled in utter dismay.
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
23
CHAPTER V.
MEETING HIS FATE.
The twenty-seventh of June arrived, and when
Hubert Ruthven awoke he remembered that it was the
day of the school fete, and that duty required him to be
present at Neverstay.
He knew that Mr. Luttrell had arrived, and had ex¬
pressed himself delighted with the pretty gabled school-
house and the large, picturesque garden.
All orders had been given for the children's feast.
It was to take place in a large orchard belonging to one
of the Neversleigh farms ; still Hubert felt it his duty
to ride over to the schoolmaster's house and see for him¬
self that all was well.
He rose early. The typical " gentleman who lives
at home at ease " is not always to be found in a wealthy
man ; he works harder at times, and more industriously,
than those whom he employs.
Hubert rose at six, took breakfast at seven, and
rode off, while the dew was yet on the grass, to Never¬
stay.
In the after years how well he remembered every
detail of that ride. The blue sky, with its white,
pearly clouds fast vanishing before the heat of the sum¬
mer sun ; the air so full of fragrance from the hay and
the clover, from the lime trees in flower, from the lilacs
fast vanishing, from the huge white magnolias, from the
wild roses that filled the hedges with such vivid masses
of scarlet bloom ; the woods were filled with bluebells
and wild larkspur ; the birds were beside themselves
with glee 011 this bright June morning. Ide saw bees
so busy that they filled the air with their musical mur¬
mur ; butterflies with bright purple and golden wings.
He was 110 poet, but his heart grew warm and tender as
24
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
he looked around him, for it is such a fair, bright world,
if we have any heart at all, it must be touched by its
brightness.
So he rode on through the sunshine and the flowers
until he came to the schools. They were built just out
side the town, so that the children might have all the
benefit of the fresh, sweet air. They were pretty and
picturesque, with large windows, and bright, large,
cheerful rooms. He did not wait to enter, but rode on
to the house, that stood at some little distance from the
schools. A beautiful cottage—not new, as was evident
from the abundance of foliage that wreathed its walls,
red and white roses framing the windows, passion flowers
twining round the rustic porch, jessamine and fragrant
woodbines mixed with drooping vine leaves. It stood
in the midst of a magnificent garden that stretched at
the back of the house far down to the brook-side ; there
the pretty brook ran between green banks away into
the clover meadows, and lost itself in the broad, clear
river Never.
It was a picture of neatness and beauty ; the win¬
dows were all open, and the lace curtains looked white
as snow-drops.
"Verily, an ideal cottage ! " said Hubert to himself.
The door was opened. He went into a small, pret¬
ty passage covered with bright, cool matting, and was
met by a little maid-servant. He inquired if Mr. Lut-
trell was at home. She said he had gone down to the
orchard, but would the gentleman wait ?
So Mr. Ruthven was shown into a pretty parlor,
filled with flowers and books.
" I could almost fancy a lady had arranged this
place," he said, looking round on the graceful flower-
stands, pretty bird-cages, and little ornaments.
One side of the room was lined with a low book¬
shelf. As he read the names of the volumes, Hubert
smiled.
" My schoolmaster will do," he said.
Still the sunny moments flew, and Mr. Luttrell did
not appear. The window was open, and the garden
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
25
looked very tempting. He thought he would walk
zhrough it and see what the flowers were like.
He passed the beds of lilies and roses, the great
chaster of clove carnations, the old-fashioned southern¬
wood, with its subtle fragrance, the mignonette and sweet
pansies ; then suddenly he heard a voice singing :
" Dinna forgot, laddie; dinna forget."
\
A sweet, clear voice, with a ring of passion and ten¬
derness ; and the sad, sweet words of the old Scotch
song came to him over the flowers.
" Dinna forget, laddie ; dinna forget." He was a]
most afraid to break the spell by moving, but when the
song ceased he went forward. There was a large space
of green grass where the apple trees grew, and sitting
under one of them—the blossoms making a frame for
her, falling around in rich showers—was a young girl,
delicate and lovely as Titania herself ; a girl with a
sweet, pure face ; a white brow, from which waved clus¬
tering hair of a golden hue; dark gray eyes, fringed
with long lashes; sweet red lips, and features whose de¬
licate loveliness was something wonderful. He caught
a glimpse of the pretty foot—one that might have be¬
longed to a duchess ; little white, slender hands. The
girlish figure was simply clad in a robe of blue muslin,
with white lace at the throat.
A picture as fair, as pure, and as bright as the morn¬
ing itself; full of gleams of sunlight; one that from his
memory was never to die.
He went to her, and she started, not in alarm, but
with surprise. He took off his hat, and stood bare¬
headed before her.
" I can ohly trust that I am not intruding," he said.
" I called to see Mr. Luttrell."
A light broke over her face, making it so radiantly
beautiful that he drew back, half in fear.
" My father," she said ; " and he is gone down to
the orchard, thinking that he might see Mr. Ruthven
there."
26
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
" I am Mr. Ruthven," he replied , and she drew back
with something like awe in those dark gray eyes.
" You are Mr. Ruthven ?" she said ; and he could
not help noticing that there was something of reverence
in her voice.
" My father will be so sorry to have missed you,"
she said, simply ; " he was so anxious to see you."
" I can wait until he returns," said Mr. Ruthven. " I
am not busy, and, if you will permit me, I will wait
here with you, Miss Luttrel."
She smiled assent, and her face flushed.
" You have chosen a pretty spot out here among the
apple-blossoms," he said, as he sat down on the rugged
roots of a tree.
"Yes; more beautiful than anything I have ever
dreamed of in my life. It is strange that you should
come just now, Mr. Ruthven, for I was just thinking of
you."
"Thinking of me ?" he said, in surprise. "Iam
very much honored. May I ask what you were think¬
ing about me ? "
" I was wondering," she said, looking at him with
grave, sweet, unconscious eyes, " whether you were
young or old, or what you were like ; and thinking that
I should like to see you just once, and thank you for all
the great happiness you have given me."
He looked still more surprised.
" I am afraid you credit me with too much," he said.
" What happiness can I have given you ? "
She smiled, and that smile made her so wondrously
beautiful, that he was again almost frightened before
her.
" It is through your goodness," she said, "that we
came here, and I have never known what real happiness
means till now. All my life I have lived in a narrow
street in Islington ; I never even saw a real garden like
this. I did not know the world held such beautiful
places as Neverstay."
" Have you seen Neversleigh and the woods ? " he
asked.
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION,
27
" Not yet," she replied. '' My father said I must
content myself with the house and garden at first, lest
I should really lose my senses with delight. I have only
seen a real wood in my dreams."
" But did you never go out of Islington ? " he asked.
" Sometimes ; very rarely. I have been to Hamp¬
ton Court, to Hampstead, and Highgate ; but they do
not seem real country like this. There is not one mo¬
ment of the beautiful day in which I do not thank you."
" I am much pleased," he said, " that my choice was
so fortunate : but I think it is all due to your father's
merits, and not to my goodness."
"I was thinking that I should like to tell you how
exceedingly happy your kindness has made me," she
said, musingly ; " and now I have thanked you. But
words are very weak to express what I feel."
"You express yourself most charmingly," he said,
almost at a loss for words.
She laughed, and that graceful, silvery laughter was
like the chime of sweet bells.
" My father speaks very differently," she said ; " he
tells me that I do not speak good grammar even."
He was rather startled at that.
" With such a clever father, you must, I am sure, be
clever yourself," he said,
"No, I am not ; I always prayed him not to educate
me. He wanted me to learn Latin and Greek. He
used to talk to me about Lady Jane Grey and her learn¬
ing, but the very thought was terrible to me. No one
educates the birds, yet how sweetly they sing. What
is more beautiful than an untrained flower ?"
Hubert Ruthven looked in positive wonder at the
fair, pure face.
" I begged him," she continued, " to let me lead a
simple, careless, happy, graceful life ; and, though he
was unwilling at first, he consented after a time, and
the result is I am not clever."
There was a sound of footsteps. She looked round.
The color deepened in her face, the light in her eyes.
28 A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
" Here is my father," she said ; and by the proud
tone of voice he knew that in her eyes the world did
not hold that father's equal.
CHAPTER VI.
the school fete,
Mr. Ruthven was pleased, as he had expected to be,
with the schoolmaster. He was not a gentleman ; he
lacked that nameless, intangible something that pro¬
claims the gentleman—the man of good birth, of good
descent, accustomed to the refinements of good society
—he lacked that ; but he was thoughtful, competent,
intelligent—a well-educated man.
His manner to Mr. Ruthven was excellent ; there
was no cringing, no fawning, nothing subservient ; yet
he was respectful, and seemed in everything to admit
the other's superiority.
They all then returned to the house, Alice holding
her father's hand, and a very pleasant hour was spent.
The master confirmed what his daughter had said. How
delightful the change was from Islington to Neverstay!
"It is like coming to a fresh world," he said. "I
think we shall be very happy here."
Then he turned to his daughter with an air of fond¬
ness and pride that did not escape Mr. Ruthven.
" I did not mention in my letter." he said, " that I
had a daughter, presuming that the fact was of no im¬
portance to any one but myself."
"Miss Luttrell is a very charming fact," was the
gallant reply. " I hope she will find Neverstay agree¬
able. You will make friends and acquaintances in time.
Some day, when you are disengaged. I shall be pleased
to show you all over the abbey and the grounds; we
have some very splendid pictures and some very beauti¬
ful books."
Mr. Luttrell expressed thanks. Alice spoke no
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
29
words, but the delight that shone in her face surpassed
any that she could put into words. Then it was time
for Hubert to go; he could find no pretext for linger¬
ing. He arranged to be at the orchard at four, and re¬
main for an hour.
" You will find the school fete a grand institution,"
he said. " All the fine ladies will be there."
" Who are the fine ladies ? " asked Mr. Luttrell, with
a smile.
" Lady Ethel Langham, Lady Delamaine, the
Misses Douglass—I could not even remember the
names."
" Then I must not go," said Alice, drawing back,
with a little look of disappointment on her face.
" Why not ? Certainly, you must—that is, if you
will," said Mr. Ruthven, with a smile. "You are not
afraid of fine ladies, are you ? "
" I have never seen any," she replied ; " but I think
I should be very much frightened at them."
Mr. Ruthven laughed, and Mr. Luttrell placed his
hand on the golden head. The same thought passed
through the mind of both—that she had nothing to fear
from being brought into competition with anybody.
And then Hubert Ruthven left. Mr. Luttrell went
with him to the garden gate, and stood while he
mounted. He rode back by the same way, through the
same woods, in the same sunlight ; but what had come
over them ? What had happened to him ? It seemed
an age since he had risen that morning, cool, calm and
self-possessed. He had ridden through those woods
without a thought save for the business he was bent
upon; he was returning haunted by a lovely young face,
haunted by the sweet gray eyes and lovely lips, haunted
by the refrain of a sweet, sad song, "Dinna forget,
laddie, dinna forget," his heart beating as it had never
done before, his pulse thrilling, his whole soul warmed
by the memory of that fair young face. _
What had come over him ? He did not know. He
was only just twenty, but he had run the gantlet of the
London ballrooms; he had seen beautiful faces, with
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
trained glances and artificial smiles; but he had seen
nothing like this girlish, simple beauty, so free from
art, so unconscious, so devoid of guile.
What had come over him ? There was another color
on the grass, a brighter light in the sky ; the music of
the birds seemed sweeter and fuller ; life seemed gayer
and brighter. Snatches of song rose to his lips. The
summer itself was not brighter or warmer than the love
that, unknown to him, was springing in his heart.
That morning, as he sat at breakfast, the notion of a
school fete had been rather tiresome than not; now he
took out his watch to count the hours and see how long
it would be before he saw her again.
" Ah ! if fine ladies knew the charm of simplicity,"
he said to himself, " we should have no more of affec¬
tation."
How he enjoyed his lunch, praised the efforts of the
cook, praised the wine, until the servants, accustomed
to his good humor, wondered at its sunny brightness.
He was quite unconscious, though he took great
pains with his dressing, though he placed a wonderful
white rose in his coat, it never once occurred to him
that it was all for her ; yet he was thinking of her. He
told the head gardener to prepare a bouquet of choice
flowers.
" She seemed so fond of flowers," he said to him¬
self ; " and many of these will be quite strange to her."
But he knew no more than a dreaming child what
had come over him, or the meaning of this strange light
that lay on earth and sky.
The fete was a most delightful one ; the orchard was
the very place above all others for it; the grass was
long and^ thick, softer than the finest carpet ever woven
by mortal hands ; the shade beneath the great apple
and pear trees was pleasant and fragrant ; there was a
band of music, and to the children's great delight, huge
swings were fastened among the great trees. There
were large tables spread with tempting cakes and lus¬
cious fruits—a table round which the children gathered
in keen delight. Such preparations for tea gladdened
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
31
the little ones even more than the fruit. But perhaps
the most amusing part of all was the fine ladies, who,
with all the gracious patronage imaginable, thought
themselves " most condescending." There was Lady-
Ethel Langham talking very pretty poetry about chil¬
dren and flowers, yet most carefully avoiding both, and
there were the Misses Douglass indulging in pastoral
raptures.
The entrance of Mr. Ruthven produced a great sen¬
sation among them. He paid his devoirs with a smile
on his handsome face, and then looked anxiously around
for Alice Luttrell.
He saw her standing at her father's side, looking
half shyly at the fine ladies who had been criticising
her, wondering if she thought herself good-looking, etc.
He went over to her at once.
" I hope you are enjoying yourself. Miss Luttrell,"
he said ; " it is a pretty, bright, animated scene."
" I am half frightened," she said, gently.
"What! at the fine ladies?—they are very harm¬
less," said Hubert.
" But they look so beautiful and so stately."
" Did you ever look in a glass ? " asked Mr. Ruthven
laughingly.
"Yes," she replied, wonderingly.
" Then you need not fear on the score of beauty.
Do you see that stately-looking lady in black ? "
" Yes," said the girl.
" That is Lady Delamaine. I will introduce your
father and you to her, and you will see how little there
is to fear."
The schoolmaster knew perfectly well, no one better,
the exact behavior required. The great lady's heart
was won by the beautiful, blushing face, the timid
manner, the shy, sweet embarrassment.
She dismissed Mr. Luttrell with a few words, but
kept his daughter by her side, and took great delight in
her. Mr. Ruthven stood for some time behind Lady
Dclamaine's chair.
" It seems to me," said Lady Ethel Langham, "that
32
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
if we want a word from Mr. Ruthven, we must pay
attention to that odious girl."
They did so, and the "odious girl " proved to be so
beautiful, so modest, so graceful, and so shy, they agreed
that " for a young person of her class, she was really
superior."
CHAPTER VII.
" too good to be lost."
Any one can see the end of that summer Idyl—
Hubert Ruthven, just twenty, tired of fashionable society
and what he called fine ladies, longing with a young
man's longing for love and happiness, the romance of
heart and soul just awakened into life—nothing could
have been more propitious for a love-story.
She herself was so deliciously naive and simple, she
had not one idea of coquetry ; but the most dangerous
flirt who ever played with the hearts of men was not so
dangerous as this simple girl. She showed such keen
delight in his society, she worshiped him with such un¬
conscious devotion ; she was so frank, so charming, that
he could not help loving her.
He had not thought of anything of the kind when
their acquaintance first began ; he was the generous
patron, she the daughter of the patronized ; he was the
grand seignior, she the schoolmaster's daughter ; he the
greatest man in the county, she one of the humblest
girls. What could there be in common between them
except the relationship of patron and patronized ? He
liked to send baskets of fruit and game down to the
schoolhouse ; it seemed a generous and a proper thing
to do. He liked to place bouquets with the fruit ; for
one fond of flowers it seemed only a charity. He gave
the schoolmaster the run of the library, and one fine
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
33
morning he kept his word and took them both over the
abbey and the grounds, showed them the state rooms
and the pictures, all the glories of Neverstay, and Alice
thought herself in Fairyland. She could not believe
this was the real natural earth ; her most fantastic
dreams had not even foreshadowed anything so grand,
so gorgeous.
And he—the prince, the hero who had dawned upon
her young life so suddenly—was to be master of all this.
She did not think so much of the mere material advantage
it would give him as she did of the halo that surrounded
him.
Father and daughter had spent the whole of a happy
day there; they had partaken of lunch, set out in the
dining-room. For the first time in her life Alice saw
plate of silver and gold—saw such fruit and flowers as
she had thought were only to be found in sunny,
southern climes—had tasted wines that might have been
the true nectar of the god's. It was like a new revela¬
tion to her—a new world. No wonder that it steeped
her senses in dreamy languor, and woke her heart and
soul into love that was almost pitiful from its intensity.
Hubert Ruthven did not seem to the girl like a mere
ordinary man ; he was a hero, a prince, with all Fairy¬
land at his command—a king, who had but to utter a
wish, and it was gratified—a wonder, a marvel ! And
the girl's simple soul fell down before him, while the
worship she gave him was in itself a greater marvel
than all.
Hubert Ruthven was essentially a gentleman ; he
had, perhaps, taken his share in the follies of the world,
but no one could lay a dishonorable action to his door.
As for the betrayal of a woman, he would sooner have
thought of picking a friend's pocket—it was not in him
to do such a deed ; so that no thought of harm to Alice
ever crossed his mind. He had been so skeptical over
love, he had seen so much of what was false and un¬
worthy to pass by that name, that he did not know what
was happiness ; he did not know that he was falling in
love with Alice; he did not know that the glamor fall-
34
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
ing over him, the light that made the world so fair, the
tender, strange happiness that filled heart and soul, was
love ; he would have been the first to laugh incredu¬
lously at such an idea.
It did not occur to him that he was continually find¬
ing some pretext or other for visiting Neverstay ; that
a day seldom passed without his seeing Alice. It did
not once occur to him as strange that going through the
woods he should meet her so often, and that they should
sit together by the brook-side, whiling the long, bright
summer day away. He had his faults, but he was a
gentleman, and a man of honor. If he had believed that
he was falling in love with Alice, or that Alice was
doing the same with him, he would have gone away at
once.
He brought her books from the library ; he made
her many simple, pretty presents of engravings and rare
photographs ; his words and thoughts opened fresh
worlds to her, and, poor girl, she did what was only
natural under the circumstances—gave him her heart,
her whole love, and made her world, her life, all begin
and end with him.
How long matters might have gone on in this uncer¬
tain way can never be told, but that Lady Delamaine
happened to interfere. She was a kind-hearted, good-
natured woman, and she had taken a kindly liking to the
schoolmaster's lovely daughter. She heard the rumors
of Hubert's continual presence at the schoolmaster's
cottage, and from simple good-nature resolved to give
him a hint. It was not long before she had an oppor¬
tunity. In the middle of September a large shooting-
party assembled at ner house, and he was one of the
guests. Under pretext of speaking to him on some
business connected with the schools, she took him into
her own room.
" Mr. Ruthven," she said, in her frank and cordial
manner, " I want to say a few words to you in good
part; you promise me not to be offended ? "
" I could never be offended with you, Lady Dela¬
maine," he replied.
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
35
" In that case I shall be just as frank with you as
though you were my own son."
"You could not do me greater honor, or give me
greater pleasure," said Hubert, touched by the elder
lady's tones.
" The schoolmaster at Neverstay, Mr. Luttrell, has
a very pretty daughter," continued Lady Delamaine ;
" so pretty, poor girl, that she will find her beauty a
snare, I am afraid."
Hubert's face flushed, but his eyes did not fall be¬
fore the calm, serene gaze.
" I am told that few days elapse without your horse
being seen at her door, ancl that you spend whole hours
with her."
" It is perfectly true," he replied, struck himself by
remembering how true it was.
" Well, my dear Mr. Ruthven, we have agreed that
I am to speak honestly. Why do you go there ?"
He paused again, remembering that he had never
even asked himself the question.
" Why ? " he repeated. " I declare, Lady Delamaine,
I do not know ; because I have found it pleasant, I sup¬
pose."
" Exactly so ; and I am quite sure you are too good
to sacrifice the fair name of a young girl because you
find your visits pleasant."
" I have not done so," he replied, proudly.
" Pardon me—not intentionally, perhaps ; but it is
done. People are beginning to talk strangely about
Miss Luttrell, and to look coldly on her, because you
are known to spend so much time with her."
" People might learn to mind their own business,"
he replied, with a warmer flush on his face.
"That they will never do," said Lady Delamaine.
"The best thing is to give them no opportunity for
talking. When a young man visits a girl and pays her
attention, it means one of two things."
" What are they ? " he asked.
" It means that he loves her, and intends to make
36
A WOMAN'S TEMPTA TTON.
her his wife; or it means that he is a villain, and in¬
tends to ruin her."
Hubert Ruthvcn stands silent before the honest
words of an honest woman.
"You mean neither of these things," she continued.
"You could not, in your position, marry such a girl—
it would be an -incongruous marriage. And I am
equally sure that you are incapable of the other."
"You dome justice," he said, with a flush that
mounted to his brow.
" It is only natural to suppose," continued her lady¬
ship, " that the young girl must in the end become
attached to you, if you persevere in these visits. Will it
not be better to avoid all further chance of wrong cr
mistake by discontinuing them altogether?"
He was silent for a few minutes ; then he held c-ut
his hand to her with a frank, sweet smile.
" I am quite at a loss how to thank you," he said.
" Lady Delamaine, I wish every young man had a sensi¬
ble friend like you. I have acted thoughtlessly—that I
confess with shame and sorrow ; but I have done no
worse. I will take your advice, and pretty Alice shall
not come to sorrow through me."
" Spoken like yourself," said Lady Delamaine ;
"she is a pretty girl, and a good girl—too good to be
lost."
" Do not mention such a thing," he said, with a shud¬
der ; " the girl is pure and simple as a child ; it would
be cruel even to think of her being lost. Thank vou,
Lady Delamaine; you shall see that you have net
spoken to me in vain."
But during the remainder cf the day he was ab
stracted and ill at ease. Of course it must be done.
Scandal must not touch Alice through him. Yet
rather than have told her that they must give up all
their pleasant interviews and pleasant hours, he would
have faced the most deadly periL
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
3»
CHAPTER VIII.
" what can it be ? "
Hubert Ruthven was never slow to act when right
demanded the action. He heard enough that day to
convince him that his visits to Neverstay had caused
no little excitement and gossip. The friends with
whom he went out shooting made many illusions that
he perfectly understood ; he was teased, half laughed
at-, half envied ; but" through it all he preserved the
most grave and unconscious demeanor. He would not
for her sake allow them to think they were understood.
He must go once more and tell her he had uncon¬
sciously done her this great wrong, and tell her that he
would not go often to Neverstay for the future ; that
she must forgive him. It was a disagreeable thing to
do, still he must do it ; and it would teach him a lesson
for the future ; but all that day there was a terrible
weight hanging over him; all the glamor and bright¬
ness that had made the world so fair was gone, the
brightness from the sunshine, the sweetness from the
flowers. He was only conscious of a terrible unrest,
and a vague burden of sorrow.
He went that morning to Neverstay, and, as was
his custom, took lunch at the Arncourt Arms ; there
he met several gentleman whom he knew ; they had
lunch and a game of billiards, and he heard more than
enough to convince him that he ought to lose no time
in carrying out his promise.
He was congratulated everywhere on his conquest
and on his skill in keeping his secret. When he looked
unconscious, they laughed; when he grew angry, thay
teased him in most unmerciful terms, until Mr. Ruth¬
ven lost patience ; then they gravely assured him that
that was the worst symptom he had shown yet.
Poor Alice ! So unconscious with her birds and
38
A WOMAN'S TEMPT A TTOIV.
flowers, so engrossed with her new and beautiful life,
how little she understood that already men had sat in
judgment upon her, and pronounced her sentence.
He said to himself that what had to be done should
be done to once ; but of all the unfortunate times for
doing it, he chose the evening of a beautiful September
day.
He would not ride over to Never stay; then no
more could be said about his horse being seen hour
after hour at the door. Fate so ordered it, that he
walked through the woods when the sunbeams were
dying in the western sky ; when the air was filled with
the rich aromatic odor of falling leaves and autumn
flowers ; when the hedges were scarlet with berries,
and the ground a carpet of gold and red, when the birds
were singing their vesper hymn, and a holy calm had
fallen over the earth.
It was equally unfortunate that by the brook-side he
saw pretty Alice sitting, watching the clear water with
a most melancholy gaze. She sprang up at the sight
of him.
" Oh, Mr. Ruthven," she cried, "I am so glad to see
you ; I thought you had gone away."
He was full of good resolutions ; still he was only a
man —a young man, too—and the light in that face
touched the core of his heart.
" Why did you think I had gone away ?" he asked.
" It is three whole days since I have seen you," she
cried, a blush spreading over her lovely face—" three
whole days. Ah ! I hope three such days will never
come again. It has seemed to me as though a funeral
pall were spread over earth and heaven.
What was he to say ? She was unconscious as a
child. She knew no more of the full meaning of her
own words than a bird does of its song.
" Let us sit down, Alice, and have a long talk," he
said.
They sat down side by side in a picturesque nook,
framed by the scarlet hedge, the pretty brook runnino-
at their feet. He hardly dared to look at the girl's
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
39
face, it was so bright and happy, while he felt he was
going to dash the brightness away.
" I thought you had gone away without bidding us
good-by," said Alice, "and yet I felt sure that you were
too good and too kind for that."
"Certainly," he said, trying to speak carelessly;
" why should I run away in that fashion, without one
word, when we have been such good friends ?"
She looked at him a little wistfully.
" I have been busy," he said, for those calm gray
eves seemed almost to demand an answer, Then her
face cleared, and a smile, beautiful as that seen on the
face of a child, came to her lips.
" I thought there must be some reason that was not
a cruel one. I hope, ah ! how much I hope, that you
will not be busy again. It was so strange not to see
you, it was like being in another world. If I did not
know differently, I should think that you made the sun¬
shine bright, and the flowers sweet—for everything has
seemed brighter and sweeter since I knew you."
" Has it, Alice ? I am very glad."
Still this was not making much progress with the
matter that brought him there. If she would only
look away. But the lovely gray eyes and the sweet
flower-like face were turned to him.
" It is strange," she continued, musingly, " if I am
reading a beautiful bopk, it does not seem to me that
the sense is complete unless you read it too. I find
myself always wondering what you think and what you
will say."
Now, if those sweet, rosy lips, with their chikl-like
prattle, would but turn away ! How was he to tell her ?
" I never knew," continued the girl, " that life could
be so bright and beautiful as I find it. I have read
grand things of heaven. I am afraid I must be very
wicked, for I do not think heaven can be any better."
" Only," he said, "there is no sorrow and no parting
there."
He was not looking at her, yet he saw the sweet
lips turn deathly white and spring apart.
4°
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
"Parting" she replied, with a shudder of dread.
"Oh ! that is a terrible word. I cannot endure it."
The little brook sang on. " Could you not fancy,"
she said, " that the brook was singing a real tune. I
could almost put words to it."
"You are fanciful," he said.
" It is you who have taught me to be so," she
replied, with a smile. " I think you have taught me
every pleasant and beautiful thing that I have known in
my life."
He saw an opening here, and it was getting time
that he said something of his errand.
"We have spent a great deal of time together," he
said, slowly. " I was thinking to-day how much, and it
quite astonished me."
The smile deepened in her eyes and on her lips.
" Yes," she said ; " but I am not astonished. I have
counted every hour, and can tell you all that has hap¬
pened in them."
"Alice," he said, hurriedly. ."I have something
not very pleasant to say to you. I blame myself—only
myself; but I am afraid that I haw* unconsciously
done you a great wrong."
She bent forward, looking eagerly in his face.
" Yon have wronged me!" she cried; "that is
quite impossible. How could such a thing be?"
He looked as he felt, terribly embarrassed. How
could he tell her that evil men said evil things of her ?
The white wild lilies that grew in the woods were not
more pure and spotless. There seemed to be a halo of
purity around her that it was pitiful to break through.
He devoutly wished every one concerned in this
unpleasant business at sea.
" I hardly know how to explain to you," he said ;
"but idle people have been commenting on my coming
so often to the schoolnouse."
" Is it the fine ladies ?" she asked, with a faint
smile.
"Not exactly," he replied, the memory o^ lady
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
41
Delamaine rising before him, and seeming to demand
justice.
She looked at him more eagerly.
"Who is it, then, Mr. Ruthven ?—-what do they
say ?"
" It seems to me that every one has interfered more
or less with us," he replied ; " ladies, gentlemen, and
every one else."
" But will you tell me what they say ? " she cried, in
an agony of suspense.
"What they say is, I am almost afraid, true," he
said ; " at least, it has made me very unhappy, for your
sake even more than my own."
"For my sake!" she repeated, with fast paling
lips. " Oh ! Mr. Ruthven, what can it be ? "
There was nothing for it but to tell her the exact
truth.
" People say, Alice, that I have been doing wrong
in coming to see you so often. My child, do not turn
so white—do not tremble ; I thought no evil. Your
society was very pleasant to me ; your beauty, your
purity and grace had a charm for me, and perhaps I
have been selfish. I liked being with you, and I forgot
all that might possibly happen in the way of scandal and
gossip."
He spoke humbly, not waiting for her answer. She
did not speak, and he went on :
" I am very sorry—more sorry than I can tell you—
but I must mend the wrong I have done. The gossip
will soon die away when it is found that the cause for it
no longer exists. I must give up our pleasant interviews,
Alice, though we shall alwhys, I hope, be the best of
friends."
There was no answer, but a sudden stir, and Hubert
saw that the poor girl had fallen in a dead swoon at his
feet.
42
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
CHAPTER IX.
vanquished by tears.
Terrified and alarmed, he raised the drooping figure
in his arms. The sweet face was so white, so deathly
cold, that at first a terrible fear came over him that she
was dead.
He held her in his arms, he called her name, but
there was no sign of life, He clasped her to his heart,
as he might have done a little child ; then he kissed the
white lips.
" Alice ! Alice, my darling ! " he cried. " How she
muat have loved to care so much ! Alice ! do you hear
me ? Look up, my darling ; I did not mean to be so
cruel."
Dear Heaven, how beautiful she was ! The white
eyelids, with their drooping lashes—the lovely, innocent
face. And how she must have loved him—how dearly
she must love him, when the very thought of his leave-
ing her would drive her into the arms of death !
If he could but kiss some color and warmth into the
white face—if he could but win one word from those
sweet lips!
" Alice ! " he cried again ; " look up, my darling,
I am frightened ! "
Then the loved voice seemed to pierce the dulled
brain ; she opened her eyes, and when she found her¬
self clasped in his arms, a hot flush rose even to her
white brow.
" Alice," he said gently, " how you frightened me !"
" Did I ? " she whispered, " I remember—you said
you must leave me. Lay my down and let me die. I
am not angry ; if you were thoughtless, so was I ; and
it was so pleasant. Let me die ; I do not care to live
one hour longer. I know you must go from me ; but
be kind to me first, let me die ! "
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
43
" Nay, Alice ! " he cried, charmed by her simplicity,
her love, her tenderness. " I will not leave you , you
shall have love and life, not death."
But she had escaped from the clasp of his arms, and
had thrown herself on the ground, with her face buried
in the long, deep grass. She sobbed as though her
heart would break, until the pitiful sound touched him
so deeply he could bear it no longer.
He knelt down by her side. He was not the first
man vanquished by a woman's tears.
" Alice," he said, "I cannot bear it; the world may
do and say what it will, but I cannot bear it."
Never while he lived did he forget that agonized
face she raised to his, so full of white despair that no
words could describe.
"I understand," she said, hoarsely. "You must
leave me. I have been so blind and so mad. I forgot.
It was heaven to be with you, and I forgot. You are a
rich seignior, the lord of all around, and I am a poor, ob¬
scure girl. I forgot that in my madness, when I dared
to think of you."
" Alice, Alice ! " he said, "listen to me."
"No," she continued, turning her white face from
him ; " I must not listen. You must go, and I must die.
I would not live without you if I could. I would not
go back to that old life in which you had no share. I
could not. Heaven help me ! I could not. If you would
only go away now, Mr. Ruthven, and leave me here
lying alone, I should be dead by morning light."
" But, Alice," he said again, " you must not die."
" What else is there left for me," she said, bitterly.
" I am not reproaching you. I had rather my lips were
burned than they should ever utter one word of reproach
against you. Why should they ? What can they say ?
You were kind to me, and I—I—the sunlight of your
presence dazzled me ; I was weak and foolish enough to
think about you. It is all my fault. I am ready to suf¬
fer the penalty ; but as for asking me to go back to my
old life, to the quiet home, my father's love, my every¬
day duties—I could not do it."
A4
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
A passionate shudder seized her ; a passionate mur¬
mur of unspoken anger passed over her lips.
" But, Alice—Alice-—what shall you do ? " he said.
" I shall seek for death and find it ! " she cried, with
a bitter laugh. " The only gift I will not take from
your hand is life."
He then threw his arm round her, as though fearing
that she would escape him. Never had she looked so
beautiful ; the pearly tears hanging on the long, dark
lashes, the eyes full of light and fire, the ruby lips trem¬
ulous, the whole face full of sensitive sorrow. So beau¬
tiful, that as he looked at her a sense of wonder seized
him.
Then he pictured her lying with that beautiful face,
white and cold, raised to the night skies—dead.
" Alice ! " he cried, " my darling I will not leave you.
The world may say and do what it likes ; I will never
leave you."
She looked at him with sudden, startled joy in her
face, such wistful, passionate, pleading love in her eyes.
" You will never leave me ! " she said. " Oh, Mr.
Ruthven, do you mean that you will never leave me ? "
" That I will not," he said, " let the world do and
say what it will. Alice—Alice—I love you my darling ;
nothing in life shall divide us."
" You\ove me?" said the girl.
" Indeed I do," he replied, bending his hanasome
face over her. " I was trying to be prudent and worldly-
wise ; let prudence and worldly wisdom go to the winds.
I will have none of them. I love you, and you shall be
my darling wife, Alice."
" Your wife," she said, quietly ; and then she sat for
a few minutes, lost in such a trance of happiness that
words could not express.
"Your wife, Mr. Ruthven," she said again. "Oh,
how good, how noble you are ! If I live for you, and die
for you, shall 1 ever be able to thank you for your love ?
Why, a queen might be proud of it, and I am only poor
and humble."
" You are everything to me," he said. He had no
A WOMAJV'S TEMPTATION.
45
thought of his uncle's warning. He only remembered
that the loveliest, the sweetest, the most loving of girls
had given him her heart.
They saw no longer the woods of Neverstay ; the
little brook sang to deaf ears ; the dying sunbeams fell
on them like a blessing ; all the pain and sorrow were
forgotten ; all the sense of disparity and the world's
sneers, all Lord Arncourt's counsels—they only remem¬
bered that they loved each other, and that nothing in
this world should divide them.
They were not roused from their happy trance until
the gloaming faded, and the wind blew cold from the
pine trees * then Hubert said :
" My darling Alice, I could linger here forever ; but
you must go home,"
It was with a new sense of protection that he offered
her his arm.
"You must take double care of yourself now," he
said, "for you belong to me."
When they reached home, he said to her, suddenly :
" Alice, shall you mind keeping our secret until I
have heard from my uncle ? "
She clung a little closer to his arm.
" Will your uncle be angry ?—will he try to take
you away from me ?" she asked.
" My uncle 'is such a strange old bachelor, I can
never tell what he is likely to do," said Hubert, with a
confused laugh ; "but you will grant my request, Alice
—keep what has passed a profound secret between us
until I tell you what my uncle says."
She promised, and in the silver light of a southern
moon Ire kissed her again, calling her his own promised
wife.
Yet, despite the glamor of love's young dream, as
he walked home to Neverstay he shivered with doubt
as with cold, and was almost afraid to own to himself
that he had done a very foolish thing—-one that he
might regret to the last hour of life.
46
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
CHAPTER X.
"time proves all things."
Had he done a wise or foolish deed ? Such a ques¬
tion should not occur to a triumphant lover, but it did to
him. His heart was beating with triumph ; his pulse
thrilled at the memory of her tender words and looks ; his
soul seemed moved to its very depths ; his face was
flushed. As he rode through the woodlands, he called her
name aloud—" Alice Ruthven ; " yet, despite his rapture,
despite the triumphant, the warm beating of his heart,
the happy love, something whispered to him that he had
not done a wise deed.
Some words—not the love-song of a poet, not the
fervid prose of a novelist, but the sensible words of a
philosopher—came to him. He could not remember
them as they were written, but they seemed to be float¬
ing in his mind. Something of a young man's foolish
fancy, mistaken for love—something of the heart's un¬
disciplined desires, and the fever called first love. He
drew the reins as he rode under the limes. Some one
else had written that love made or marred a life ; was
his to be made by this wild fever that flushed his cheeks
and made his hands tremble ?—should he be a nobler,
wiser man for this hot passion which had so powerfully
swayed him ?—would life be more full of noble aims,
heaven any nearer ?
" Time will show," he answered himself; " time
proves all things."
He flung those thoughts to the winds. How beauti¬
ful she was, this girl who loved him so ! How bright
the blue eyes were that looked into his own, how sweet
and sensible the trembling lip ; how natural she was,
how simple, how free from all guile ; how different to
the worldly woman and artificially trained girls he had
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
47
known ; how dearly she loved him ! And, after all,
what was to be compared to a loving, gentle heart ?
He ought to be proud of his conquest, to be loved
for himself, without any reference to his wealth, his
position, his title. What could he ask better?
" I have won the sweetest face and the truest heart
in England for my own," he said.
Yet there was a doubt upon him—a doubt he could
not solve or understand.
When he reached home, he found cards on the library
table. " The Duke of Ormescombe," " Captain Reid,"
" Major Fullarton."
" You have had visitors during my absence," he said
to the butler.
" Yes, sir ; the Dukeof Ormescombe, and some mili¬
tary gentlemen. I placed the cards where you might
see them."
He felt a great anxiety to see the duke, so much
had been said in praise of him. He was a man eminent
for his statesmanlike qualities, for his great good sense
and moderation. All parties looked up to him with re¬
spect and admiration. His wife, too, was considered one
of the most aacomplished and elegant of women. The
Duchess of Ormescombe was the patroness of every
charity worth patronizing. Her very name, people said,
carried a blessing with it. There was no lady in Eng¬
land more admired or esteemed.
Then the duke's daughter, Lady Isora Morelton—
Hubert had never met her, but he had heard of her
graceful loveliness. He remembered with a smile that
one paper had called her the fairest star of Victoria's
Court. He had seen a portrait of her once, when she,
with some of the noblest and fairest ladies of the land,
officiated as bridemaid to a charming and lovely princess.
But the portrait had given no fair idea of her. He
heard many people laugh at the notion of it bearing even
ever so slight a resemblance to Lady Isora.
He felt some little curiosity to see her, principally
because his uncle had spoken of her with such enthusi-'
asm—that of all England, Lord Arncourt had said, she
48
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
would make him the best and fairest, the most suitable
wife possible to find. He remembered the words as he
stood there holding the cards in his hand.
"After all," he said to himself, "it is all nonsense.
No man can tell the kind of wife suitable to another."
He detested himself for it, yet he could not help the
thought—would it have been better for him to have
waited until he had seen Lady Isora, before making any
one else an offer of marriage ? Then he trampled the idea
under foot. He said to himself that it was disloyal.
What was Lady Isora in comparison with that fair, in¬
nocent girl whose white arms had been clasped around
his neck whose sweet lips had touched his own.
That same evening, before he went to rest, he wrote
what he called a very diplomatic letter to Lord Arncourt.
He only supposed the case, and did not write boldly :
" I have seen a young girl, poor, obscure, and un¬
known, but lovely and good. She loves me, and I love
her. May I marry her ? "
He knew the disposition of his uncle too well to
write in such a strain. He simply said:
"Yon are anxious for me to marry, I know. Sup¬
pose that I met here a girl without fortune or birth, and
I fell in love with her; what should you say to such an
engagement as that ? Supposing that I wrote and told
you that the happiness of my whole life depended on
it. lie sure you answer me, for I wish to know."
When that letter was written and sent he felt easier
in his mind. Then on the following morning he thought
to himself that he was bound in etiquette to go to
Ilernely Court and return the duke's visit.
As he rode again through the sunlit, fragrant wood,
with the perfume of wild flowers floating round him. all
his doubts disappeared. The loveliest girl in England
loved him for his own sake—not because he was some
day or other to be Lord Arncourt—the sweet, true, ten¬
der heart that was all his own. No wonder the sun
shone and the birds sang ; no wonder that the earth
seemed very fair. Kings had often sighed for such a
treasure as he had won, yet never obtained it. How he
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
49
wished this visit to Hernely Court was ended, that her
might go over to Neverstay ! She would be sitting un¬
der the apple blossoms waiting for him, the sun shining
on her golden head, and such love in her eyes as might
win Peris from the gates of Paradise.
He forgot Lady Isora ; her name hardly occurred to
him during that ride. He reached Hernely Court at
last, only to hear that the Duke of Ormescombe was not
at home.
He looked slightly disappointed, thinking to himself
this would necessitate another long journey. The foot¬
man told him .that the duchess was at home and disen¬
gaged. Mr. Ruthven entered, and was shown into a
magnificent drawing-room, where her grace of Ormes¬
combe was sitting alone.
She welcomed him most kindly, and he felt at home
with her at once. Hers was very perfection of high
breeding—the calm, sweet, tranquil elegance that, in¬
stantly puts every one at ease. Mr. Ruthven felt a great
admiration for her. Then she talked to him so sensibly
about the country and all matters of interest connected
with it ; about himself—his position, his hopes. Hu¬
bert found himself talking to her confidently, happily,
as he had never talked to a lady before.
"Shall you feel dull at *Hernely Court? " he asked,
suddenly.
She laughed.
" That question proves that you do not know the
duke yet. It would be utterly impossible to be dull
where he is. I always tell him that he takes London
with him wherever he goes ; he delights in a house full
of people."
. " To be sure ; I remember now that he had visitors
with him when he rode over to Neversleigh."
The duchess smiled again.
"We are supposed," she said, "to come into the
country for quiet. Now imagine, Mr. Ruthven, the
number of guests staying at the court."
" I could not possibly tell," he replied, thinking, as
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
he spoke, that he had never seen any smile so sweet as
hers.
" Seventeen," she said ; " and, Mr. Ruthven, if you
will pardon the short notice, and dine with us to-mor¬
row, I shall have great pleasure in introducing you to all
our friends."
Dine there to-morrow ! that would be another day
away from Alice; and the golden summer world soon
be passing, the apple blossoms falling from the tree. He
longed to catch the hours as they flew.
Then he recovered himself with a crimson flush.
The duchess was looking at him and laughing.
"Your thoughts are straying," she said, with an air
of kindly amusement. "Nay, do not apologize; every
one wanders at times."
" I can only hope you will not think me very remiss,"
he said; "the fact is that the word to-morrow sent me
off at a tangent." Then, as the only possible means of
atoning for his rudeness, he added : " I cannot tell your
grace with how much pleasure I accept your invita¬
tion."
" That is well," she replied, and he saw that she was
pleased. "The duke has gone to show our visitors the
ruins of Gore Abbey ; they are said to be very fine. I
forgot to ask you ; do you know Lady Isora, my daugh¬
ter, Mr. Ruthven ?"
" I have not that pleasure," he replied.
" Most of our guests are riding with the duke.
Lady Isora is with them. To-morrow I will introduce
you to her."
He added a few complimentary words and then went
away satisfied with his visit, and leaving the Duchess ot
Grmescombe equally pleased.
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
CHAPTER XI.
the passing cloud.
It was with an exultant sense of freedom that he
galloped off to the scboolhouse at Neverstay. He
remembered the gossip about his horse standing at the
door, but he only laughed at it.
" People will soon see what it means," he said, " and
then they will understand why I have been so often."
The schoolmaster was busy with his classes. Hubert
looked into the schoolroom ; it was hot and close,
though the fragrance of mignonette floated in the open
windows. Mr. Luttrell looked tired, and the noise of the
children was slightly confusing.
Involuntarily Hubert Ruthven thought to himself
how distasteful such a life of labor must be ; how weari¬
some, how trying, to see the sunshine, the green mead-
dows, the shady woods, yet to be tied to the desk after
that fashion.
" Thank Heaven no work ties me," he said to him¬
self ; " I should bear it ill."
Then Mr. Luttrell said something to him, and Hu¬
bert replied pleasantly. No man ever lived who was
less suspicious than the schoolmaster.
" It is a warm day, Mr. Ruthven," he said, "and
you look tired. Go into the house—Alice will give you
some lemonade."
"The very word has a refreshing sound," said Hu¬
bert. " I shall want a long talk with you some day
soon, Mr. Luttrell."
The schoolmaster thought he meant on matters con¬
nected with the school ; he bowed gravely.
" I am at your service any time, Mr. Ruthven," he
replied; and Hubert, singing softly to himself the old
Scotch song, " My love she's but a lassie yet," went
into the house.
He knew she would be in the garden. The cool,
52
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
shady rooms were all empty, the white lace curtains
moved in the wind, the flowers in the vases were all
fresh and fragrant. He went out at the long French
window. Oh ! how fair and sweet it was, fairer with all
those old-fashioned flowers. There were the apple
blossoms, pink and white, and fragrant, and underneath
them the lovely, smiling face that had beguiled his heart
from him.
She sprang up, with a glad cry of welcome.
" I thought you would come ! " she said.
" Come, my darling ? why, of course I should come
Where else should I go? You may rely upon it that
wherever you are I shall come."
" The morning is so beautiful! It was bright be¬
fore; it seems doubly bright now. There must be some
magic about you, Mr. Ruthven ; the moment you come
in sight the sunshine is full of gold, and the air of
music, such a subtle change comes over the whole
earth."
He smiled, though his heart was moved to its very
depths.
" Those are your fancies, sweet."
" You look tired ; sit down here and I will get some¬
thing for you. It seems to me almost a sin to spend
these golden days indoors."
He never forgot the graceful little figure tripping
about him, the sumptuous repast that she had prepared
for him under the apple blossoms. There were large
green leaves instead of golden plate, filled with ripe and
juicy strawberries, ripe peaches and nectarines, a bunch
of purple grapes, a glass of clear, sparkling lemonade,
ripe cherries full of juice. He looked in amaze at the
white, slender fingers arranging the beautiful fruit.
" Why, Alice," he said, " this is fit for a king."
" It is for a king," she said—" for my king , and
when he comes to visit me, surely he must have the
best I can offer him."
She watched him while he drank the clear, cool lem¬
onade.
" Do you like it ? " she asked.
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
S3
" I should be difficult to please if I did not. Cer¬
tainly I do."
" I made it," she said, shyly, the blue eyes looking
intensely at him. " I shall learn to make everything
you like, Mr. Rutliven."
He laughed aloud ; the idea of his wife, the future
mistress of Neversleigh, making lemonade, amused him
greatly, Suddenly he stopped, and his laughter died
away. It was just possible that if he made this girl his
wife the abbey might never be his at all. ■ She looked
at him.
" Why do you laugh, then look so grave ? " she
asked.
"I was wondering, Alice, "whether you would love
me as well if I were a poor man—poor enough to be
obliged to work—as you love me now that you believe
me heir of Neversleigh ? "
" Certainly," she replied, very promptly. " What
difference would that make to love? It would make a
great difference to comfort, though."
" In what way ? " he asked, somewhat surprised.
"I should be frightened to death at that big bouse.
Why, the very servants there are grander than the
finest people I have ever known."
•' Oh, Alice ! " he cried, involuntarily.
" It is true. The housekeeper looks like a duchess,
and the maids like "
" My darling, did you ever see a duchess ? " he
asked, in a tone of grave remonstrance, with the
memory of that stately lady he had just left upon him.
" No ; I do not know that I ever did," was the can¬
did reply. " But I have an idea that all duchesses are
very grand and stately, something like Mrs. Seldom
She always wears a black satin dress and a golden
chain."
"The housekeeper! Ah, well, Alice, you have
noticed more than I have done."
She laughed, and poured out another glass of lemon¬
ade. He could not tell how it was, but her words had
jarred upon him. He was loth to admit it even to him-
54
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
self. In spite of their adorable simplicity, there seemed
to him something vulgar about them, not to understand
the difference between the dignity of a duchess and the
" starched estate" of a housekeeper, to find the acme of
splendor in a black satin dress and a gold chain. He
shuddered a little, though she was so lovely and so
loving.
" You will see what a duchess is like some day,
Alice," he said; "then you can judge better."
She was" looking at him with earnest eyes—so
earnest, he wondered a little.
" I vexed you just now," she said, gently. " I do not
know what it is, but I feel sure that I have said some¬
thing that has not pleased you."
He was about to deny it, but she laid her white hand
on his lip.
" I know it, dear; I know every-line on your face ; if
a bright thought flashes through your mind, I read it ;
if it is a gloomv one, I read it ; and a few minutes since
a cloud, just a little cloud, passed over your face, and I
knew some careless word had brought it there. Do you
know that I would rather die than vex you ?"
The sweet red lips quivered, and the blue eyes filled
with tears.
" My darling ! " he cried, clasping her in his arrns ;
"if you do that, I shall never forgive myself."
" But you were just a little disappointed or vexed at
something I said ?"
He kissed her over and over again.
" You could not vex me, darling," he said ; and at
that moment she looked so beautiful he really believed
what he said. "You could not vex me, for your words
are sweet and graceful as yourself."
He forgot the passing cloud. She was very quiet
for a few minutes after, and clung to him with a wistful
tenderness that touched his heart inexpressibly.
" I shall begin from now," she said, " and learn every¬
thing that that will please you. Shall I ever be as clever
as a fine lady, I wonder ? "
"Alice, darling, do not sav ' fine ladv ;' there is a
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
55
sound about it that I do not like. A lady is always a
lady, and can never be ' fine' "
She interrupted him.
" Thank you for teaching me that," she said. " I
shall always remember it. If you will only tell me what
annoys you, I will be so careful."
Then he remembered that innate refinement was the
only true teacher, and his corrections were, after all,
useless. He contented himself by kissing the sweet,
flowerlike face, and spending the rest of the sunshiny
morning in talking about love.
CHAPTER XII.
the uncle's reply.
" Shall you come to-morrow ?" asked Alice of her
lover, as he bade adieu.
" I am afraid not. I have promised to dine at
Hernely Court; and I fear that I shall not have time."
He could have laughed aloud at the awe and wonder
that came into her beautiful blue eyes.
"Hernely Court!" she repeated, "why, that is
where the duke lives."
" Yes ; and it is with the duke I am going to dine.
The lovely lips pouted.
" But he has such a beautiful daughter, Mr. Ruth-
ven, so they say."
" And I believe it is true. Lady Isora is said to be
a great beauty."
The little white hands clung round his arm, and the
fair child-like face was raised to his.
" You will not like her best, will you ? " she said.
It was impossible to resist bending down and kissing
those sweet lips.
" You must not love her the best, because, although
56
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
she is Lady Isora, and very beautiful, she could not
love you as I do ; it would be impossible."
What young man was ever untouched by those words,
whispered in the sweetest of voices, with a face like a
summer flower bending over him.
" My darling, you need not fear ! I did not wish to
go at all, but I was compelled to promise. All the
Lady Isoras in the world are nothing to me compared to
you. I love you, no one else."
The time was to come when he would remember
those words.
Some hours later he stood, one of a brilliant number
of guests, in tbe Hernely drawing-rooms. His thoughts
were still rather in a maze ; still, with the sweet face
under the apple blossoms, he went through the usual in¬
troductions in the usual way.
" Society is always alike, go where you will," he
thought.
The duke was exceedingly pleased to see him—the
futurelord of Neversleigh Abbey was the most important
person in the neighborhood. The duchess was most
affable, kind, and gracious, distributing her smiles and
words, as a good hostess should, to all indiscriminately.
Hubert was listening with some amusement to an argu¬
ment between two officers when Lady Isora entered the
room. He was not thinking of her at that moment;
but by the slight stir, and the excited attention on every
face, he saw that something out of the common way had
happened. Hearing the rustle of a dress he turned
round, and for the first time in his life saw Lady Isora
Morelton.
A tall, beautiful, queenly vision, with rippling hair
and bright eyes, with lips perfect as those of a Grecian
goddess, and a face of the rarest patrician beauty. He
did not know what her dress was, but that it was some¬
thing white and shining, and fell like a luminous cloud
about her; and the white pearls she wore were no
whiter than the graceful neck and rounded arms ; she
had the prettiest shoes, her gloves were a marvel of art,
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
57
her jeweled fan was perfection, and as she moved
through the room, it seemed as though a ripple of light
and subtle perfume followed her.
He had seen beautiful women—pretty girls, hand¬
some matrons—but no one like her. She was unique.
Then it seemed to him the sunshine was dazzling him ;
he felt giddy and faint, as though some strong perfume
had passed over him—it was Lady Isora smiling as the
duchess introduced him—but he was almost too be¬
wildered to know what to say.
For a man of the world it was strange. Perhaps
Lady Isora was accustomed to produce this effect upon
people, for she did not remark it. She talked to him
until the dazzle of her beauty wore away, and then he
answered back.
But he smiled to himself afterward when she seated
herself in a crimson velvet fautcuil, and one by one, all
the " best men " in the room gathered round her. She
was so like some gorgeous young queen surrounded by
her court, that he smiled to himself as he remembered
his uncle's words.
" As though I could win her," he said to himself.
"Why, a king might woo such a woman, and woo in
vain. Win her, a girl so peerless, so gifted, whose
smiles seemed to make Eden ! No ; it was not pos¬
sible."
She was not worldly—not a mere society model.
The duchess, by a most graceful gesture and half a
word, signified to Mr. Ruthven that he was to take her
daughter down to dinner. She laid her hand on his
arm, and he thought of the little hands that had clung
there so short a time since—thought of sweet Alice
Luttrell, and sighed. Lady Isora looked up at him
with a smile.
" Going down to dinner with a sigh! " she said.
" Why, Mr. Ruthven, that is unusual."
She was laughing so frankly, that he felt quite at
ease with her.
" The cause of the sigh is unusual, I candidly admit,"
he replied.
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
" I must not ask what it is," she said.
" No ; I must pray you not, for if you told me to do
•anything, Lady Isora, I should be compelled to do it;
and in this case, it would not be judicious."
"Then I will be generous, and not ask," she said.
It was no exaggeration to say that she charmed him.
How could he have been so foolish as to think all wo¬
men artificial and inane ? Why, she was brighter than
any one he had ever met; she reminded him of the girl in
the fairy tale, whose lips only opened to drop diamonds
and pearls ; she was eloquent, witty, brilliant, and de¬
lightful.
He found himself wondering whom she would marry,
what destiny would be high enough for her. Again he
found himself wondering what she would have said, and
how he should have fared if he had been free to woo her.
" She would not have cared for me," he thought.
" It would not have been possible ; she is a brilliant star,
and I am not worthy of her."
He hardly remembered how the night passed ; it
seemed to him that he woke up from a trance when he
reached home, and found himself once more amid the
familiar scenes of Neversleigh Abbey.
It was another day before the answer from Lord
Arncourt came, and then the cool, cynical, wicked words
made the young man's face flush with anger, and his
heart beat with pain.
" I wonder, my dear nephew, that you should waste
good ink and paper in asking me such a question. I
answer it, ' If you were ever so far to forget what is due
to me and to yourself as to contemplate such a marri¬
age, I would disinherit you at once.' I should not wait
an hour; there is no doubt about it. Another thing is,
that a poor, obscure girl would not expect marriage. I
need say no more. I hear wonders of the Lady Isora,
and shall be glad to know that you admire her. No
more folly, Hubert. A wise man looks before he
leaps.
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION
59
CHAPTER XIII.
what shall he do ?
Hubert Ruthven read his uncle's letter with a
feeling of something like distraction ; he could not help
feeling a dislike, a repulsion, for the man who could so
coolly suggest injustice.
" Not expect marriage ! " he cried. " Why, I would
not stain my soul with the blight of a fair life like that
for all the wealth of the world."
He felt indignant. Vice is not always welcome to
the young, the hopeful, the sanguine; any amount of
romance, of poetry, even of nonsense—but vice, it
shocks and jars.
" Bring clouds of sorrow and shame to that lovely
face? No! not for a hundred earldoms!—not for
kingdoms ! "
" Whatever else happens," he said to himself, " I am
a man of honor, and it will not be that
The matter lay very clearly before him. He knew
perfectly well that if he did marry Alice Luttrell he
would never succeed his uncle ; he would lose Never-
sleigh Abbey and the fortune that he had been taught to
consider his own ; he would have no prospect before
him but bare, bleak poverty; Lord Arncourt would
never pardon such a marriage.
He must choose between the two, and, though he
did not know it, it was a certain sign that he was not
very deeply in love, or he would not have hesitated an
instant ; kings have thrown away a kingdom before
now for love.
On the day following he received another letter
from his uncle, more cynical, more repulsive even, than
the first.
" I thought it better," wrote Lord Arncourt, " to
supplement my letter by a few remarks. People say
there is no man so foolish as a cynic. I do not think
6o
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
so. That I can sneer, and sneer well, at my fellow-crea<
tures, is to me a matter of great self-congratulation.
However, that is beside the matter. What I want to say
to you is this: Do not be misled by any absurd idea about
love. Credit me, all women are alike ; six months after
marriage you will not care whether you married the
women you fancied yourself dying for, or one quite in¬
different. What you young men call love, and think
half-divine, is but a fever—a foolish, fretting fever. It
always wears out. Now, if this be the case—and you
have the word of a philosopher for it—-why put yourself
out of the way ? If it cannot possibly matter what
woman you marry, why not choose one who can bring
you what you want—distinction, high connection, polit¬
ical influence—who can materially advance your interests
in life ? Why throw yourself away upon one who in¬
stead of bringing you anything, lowers you socially, and
makes you ashamed of yourself every hour of your life,
after the first foolish enchantment is over ? I have
met many men in my life whom I have pitied, but none
whom I pitied so much as the man who has married an
ill-bred woman.
" Of course, my dear Hubert, these are 'out little
hints that I throw out for your consideration. You are
at perfect liberty to choose for yourself. You have
been brought up to consider yourself my heir. If you
prefer this kind of marriage, by ail means marry. I do
not like Eric Chilvers, but on this score I should feel
perfectly safe with him.
" I shall not allude to this matter again, unitss 1
hear from you that you prefer marriage to an inheri¬
tance. I shall consider that common sense has guided
you, and you have given up all such absurd ideas."
Hubert Ruthven read this letter with even greater
dissatisfaction than the former one. But if he had felt
the devoted, passionate love for Alice Luttrell that he
had imagined himself to feel, he would not have hesi¬
tated one moment ; but over this love, in his own mind,
there was always a doubt—a half-lingering doubt he
could neither explain nor understand.
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
6r
When he was with her, her fascination completely
conquered him; he remembered nothing except that
he loved her, and that she was the fairest and most
loving creature. Away from her, reason had full sway;
he could doubt and wonder whether the dream was a
wise one—whether the spell would hold.
Only a few short weeks ago, and he was bright,
happy, and careless as the summer hours ; now he was
full of doubt and perplexity.
" Was I not happier before love came into my heart
at all ?" he said. And if he had been a little wiser the
fact that he could ask himself that question would have
convinced him that he was not in love at all—that he
was simply mistaking a boyish fancy, a pretty, fantastic
delusion, for love.
At last he bethought himself that, as Alice was to
be the principal party concerned, he would do well to
consult her—to tell her his difficulties, and see what
she thought. He found her—not at home—but gather¬
ing the dewy, blue forget-me-nots from the brookside.
He did not see her at first, and was walking hastily
by, when she called his name in a sweet, low voice, and
turning round he saw her.
"Alice," he cried, "how glad I am to meet you here !
I was going down to your house. I wanted to talk to
you."
" I am trespassing," she said. " All the time I have
been gathering these flowers I have been saying to
myself. ' These are Neversleigh Woods, the property
of my Lord Arncourt; no trespassers allowed.' You
will not prosecute me for gathering a few wild flowers,
will you ?"
" I am so glad to see you, Alice ; I want to talk to
you."
" Not about anything serious ? " she replied, plead¬
ingly.
" Yes, about something very serious," he replied.
" Ah, me ! " said the girl. " If the world were but
less grave—if life were more like this summer morn¬
ing !"
62
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
" It ought to be always a summer morning to you,"
he said.
" So it will be, if my sun shines," she answered,
looking at him with loving eyes.
He felt the old charm beginning to work.
" Women ought not to have such beautiful eyes,"
thought the poor young fellow. " What can a man
do ?"
She was pointing with her white hand to a beautiful
willow tree that had drooped over the brook.
" Under the shade of that willow," she said, " there
is the prettiest, coziest nook in the world. I have been
sitting there until the water sung me to sleep. Let us
go there. How nice it must be to own a real wood like
this, where no trespassers can come ! "
He followed her, and they sat under the branches
of the drooping willow ; the little brook sang so sweetly
to them ; bright-eyed birds sang a few notes, looked at
them fearlessly, then flew away; the flowers bloomed
around them, and the fragrant wind whispered of love.
" How beautiful ! " said Alice. " Oh, Hubert, do
not waste these sunny hours talking about your cold,
serious matters ; do learn a lesson from the birds and
the flowers ! "
" And talk to you of nothing but love," he replied,
laughingly.
" What could suit the morning better ? " she asked ;
and Hubert agreed with her. The spell was working,
the doubts and perplexities rapidly clearing away ; she
was so lovely and so loving. Suddenly his eyes fell
upon a book bound in blue and gold, and he bent down
to look at it.
" Have you been reading, Alice ? " he asked.
" Yes : I came here to study, but the brook and the
birds would not let me," she answered gravely.
" What book is it ? " he asked.
Suddenly her beautiful face flushed the deepest crim¬
son ; she looked terribly distressed.
" You must not look at it," she cried. " I did not in¬
tend you to see it."
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
63
She placed one hand over the title so that he could
not see it.
" What a little hand ! " he said ; " and how white it
is ! " He took it away, and read : " Guide to Etiquette ;
Rules for Behavior in the Highest Society."
Then, despite the gravity of the situation, Hubert
Ruthven laughed aloud. He could not imagine the
future Lady Arncourt learning manners from this little
blue book!
CHAPTER XIV.
" I SHALL DIE IF I LOSE YOU."
"Now," she said, half-tearfully, "you will be vexed
with me again. I only want to please you. I want to
be just like those ladies you saw at Hernely. I want to
talk like them, and do just just as they do."
" You will not find out the method here," he said,
turning over the pages with great amusement. " Never
mind about imitating any one, Alice; believe me
you are best and dearest as you are."
She looked delighted; her face cleared, and her
beautiful eyes grew bright.
" Do I please you ? " she asked, quietly, looking so
winning as she spoke, he could not help clasping his
arms round her, and kissing the sweet, flower-like face.
" Most certainly you do," he replied. " I have given
you plenty of proof, I think."
" I am so glad !" she cried ; " oh so glad ! I shall not
care now ; I shall not trouble myself about the ' Guide
to Etiquette' any more ; but I should like always to be
polite, Hubert, you know."
" Certainly : so you are. Women especially beauti¬
ful women, are sweet and gracious by nature."
She was a happy child.
" I did not think ladies spoke always in the stiff, formal
64
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
way this book represents ; and you like me best as I
am, Hubert, really and truly?"
His answer was very delightful; but was not given
in words.
"Now, Alice," he said, " put away the little book,
dear, and listen to me. I want to talk very seriously to
you. All the happiness of our lives is at stake."
It was almost pitiful to see how the light died out
of her face. She was but a butterfly, poor child, born
to bask in sunshine and fragrance, and to die when all
bright things faded away. There was none of the sterner,
grander elements of womanhood in her. She was made
to be loved, caressed, indulged, not to be the campanion
of a man's life in the higher sense of the word.
"You are going to tell me something very sad. I
know it by the expression of your face."
" It is simply this, Alice : I told you that I should
write to my uncle and see what he said about our mar¬
riage. I have done so, and I want to tell you about his
reply."
She drew nearer to him, and the little white hands
clung to his arm as though she would hold him against
all the world.
" My uncle is a very proud man, Alice, and not a
good man, I fear, though I do not wish to shock you
with that. He does not believe in love "
"Not believe in love?" she interrupted, in such
horrified tones, he could not help smiling.
" No; neither in love nor marriage. He has the
strangest ideas. He thinks it does not matter in the
least whom you marry; and, in short, my darling Alice,
he will not hear one word of our marriage."
Her face turned so deadly white he thought she was
going to die. Her lips lost all their color, and she trem¬
bled like a leaf on a tree. She opened her lips as
though she were going to speak, then the sounds died
away upon them.
" Alice, Alice, my darling !" he cried. " Do not,
for Heaven's sake, do not look like that
" I shall die if I lose you," she said, hoarsely. " All
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
65
my life has gone into yours. If I thought for one mo¬
ment that I should lose you, do you know what I would
do ?"
" No, my darling."
" I would throw myself into the brook there, before
your face. I am only a child, I know, in years ; but it
is no child's love that I have given to you. I am poor,
ignorant, inexperienced ; but I love you—I love you with
a terrible love. I cannot lose you ; I would rather die
with you any death, any torture, rather than lose you.
Oh, forgive me ! I should not say all this, but I hardly
know what I am saying."
He looked at her in wonder. The very character of
her face seemed changed ; the child-like simplicity had
gone out of it ; deep, undying passion shone there now,
and filled the beautiful eyes with light. He began to
understand that in that soul he had awakened there
were depths he had not penetrated. She had caught
his hand in her own, and covered it with kisses and
tears.
" From the first," she said, "from the first moment
you came to me, from the first moment that your eyes
smiled into mine, it was as though some great king,
some great hero, had stooped from his high estate to
love one far beneath him. Though your face and your
voice haunted me all dayand all night, still I said to my¬
self that it would be madness to love you, because you
were so far above me. Then, when I found that I could
not help loving you, I thought I would worship you all
my life, as the Persians do the sun. I never dreamed of
your loving me, but I used to think how the greatest
pleasure of my life would be watching you as you rode
by, and reading about you when you should be a great
man. I never dreamed of your loving me; it would
have seemed to me less wonderful had the sun bowed
down to the stars. I said to myself, ' I must be careful
that no one in the wide world shall ever guess at my
secret ;' and I would have kept it. I would have loved
you from a far-off distance, but that you said you loved
me. Then I let my whole heart and all my thoughts
66
A WOMAN'S TEMPT A TION.
go out to you. I cannot take them back. You have
been heart of my heart, soul of my soul—I cannot lose
you."
She buried her face in her hands, and flung herself
with passionate tears on the ground ; but he raised her,
and kissed her tears away.
" You will never like me again," sobbed she. " 1
know that I ought not to talk in this way—the ladies of
your world do not—but my heart must speak, and it can
only speak through my lips, you know."
" My dearest Alice, my darling, you mistake ; indeed
you mistake. Could I do anything else but love you ?
Do not weep ; there is no need. We will not be parted.
Listen to me."
" We must not be parted now," she said, "unless you
wish me to die."
She had never looked more lovely; the pouting,
beautiful lips, the eyes filled with tears, the sweet face
all aglow with passion and tenderness.
" You have not heard all, Alice," said her lover.
" Lord Arncourt cannot part us—no one in the wide
world can do that."
" Then why did you frighten me so dreadfully ? " she
asked, beginning to smile again.
" Lord Arncourt cannot part us, but, if we are mar¬
ried, he will disinherit me."
"You will not mind that, shall you?" she asked,
eagerly.
He could not help smiling again at her simplicity.
" I think I should mind it, Alice; for you see that I
have been brought up to be Lord of Neversleigh ; that
has always been the future worked out for me. I have
no fortune of my own—not one shilling—and my uncle,
always intending me to be his heir, has never had me
educated for any profession. If I were disinherited,
Alice, I should not be able to get even a living like your
father's. I should be the poorest of the poor."
" It would he cruel to you," she said, "T would not
let you lose Neversleigh for my sake. There is only
one thing that we can do, Hubert."
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION 67
"What is it, my darling?"
" We must wait. You must not disobey or anger your
uncle ; it will not do. We love each other ; we are very
happy with our love. There is no need to look further
yet. I should be happier waiting all my life for you
than if I were married to some great king ! "
" But we may have to wait half a lifetime," he said.
" Never mind, that will not matter. What can be
better or happier ? We can see each other sometimes.
I can write to you ; you can write to me. We shall be
just as happy as we are now."
" Even if it be for thirty years ? " he said.
" Time is as nothing to those who love," she said,
with unconscious poetry.
So the morning that had seemed so perplexing to
him ended happily. They were to love each other
always, and to wait in patience until the time should
come when that love might be avowed in full light of
day.
CHAPTER XV.
" i will be tender and true to you."
Lord Arncourt smiled to himself as he drank his
rare wine and looked over his cameos. His favorite
nephew was a man of sense after all; he had written
several times, but there was no more mention of a love
affair.
" He is cured," thought his lordship, with a cynical
smile ; "it is astonishing, after all, how a man in love
may be brought to reason. I have no doubt but that
when I return I shall have some story of the disappear¬
ance of some village beauty. I shall know what it
means ; there is nothing like philosophy after all."
So for a time there was a calm. Hubert went fre-
68
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
quently to the schoolhouse, and but few days passed
without his seeing Alice- Yet Hubert Ruthven was
far from happy ; he did not like the concealment, the
clandestine meetings, the secrecy, the part he was com¬
pelled to play. He was an honorable man, and there
seemed to him something very dishonorable in the
whole affair. Yet how to alter it he did not know. As
the days, weeks, and months passed by, he owned to
himself that he had been foolish ; that he had mistaken
a boyish infatuation, a passing fancy, for love ; 'yet that
his word was pledged now, and, at the price of his life's
happiness, he must keep it.
How the story would have ended can never be known
—fate interfered again.
One morning Hubert said to himself that on the day
following he would go over to Neverstay and tell his
story to Mr. Luttrell; it would ease his mind and his
conscience, he thought. That same evening word was
brought to him that the schoolmaster had fallen down
dead in the school.
All the consequences of this event did not at once
present themselves to him. Of course he went over to
Neverstay, and found Alice paralyzed with grief. The
lovely, child-like, smiling girl had never seen death before,
and her grief was terrible to witness. He found her by
her father's bedside, from whence she refused to move.
She took no notice of him ; his presence seemed of no
account to her. She did not even hear him when he
spoke. She only cried for her father, who was never
more to listen to her cries, or to wipe away her tears.
Hubert did all that was possible. He sent to the
village for some kind-hearted woman to remain with her;
he superintended all the arrangements for the funeral.
He was present at the inquest, and heard the decision
of the jury :
" Died of disease of the heart."
Then he wondered what he was to do next. Alice
was not quite penniless—her father had saved a hundred
pounds.
" It would buy her mourning, and set her up in the
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION. 69
world," said the kind-hearted neighbors ; but they did
not know the story of Alice's love.
The first time he met her after her father's death the
inmost depths of his heart were moved. She had always
been so bright, so smiling, so animated ; she had been
so radiant in her love and her happiness. Now she was
pale and sad, with quivering lips and weeping eyes.
" Alice, my darling ! " he cried: " shall you never
smile again ? "
She clung to him as a weeping child to its mother.
" I was so happy," she sobbed, " only three weeks
since; and now I have lost all in the world."
" Not quite all," he said ; " I am left to you."
" But I must lose you, too," she said. " Oh, Hubert,
I did not think of that at first, and it is just as well—it
would have killed me."
" Why must you lose me, my darling? I don't un¬
derstand. I thought to love you all the better, so as to
make up to you for your loss."
" They have been telling me that I shall have to leave
the cottage—the pretty home where I have been so
happy. Some one else is coming. There will have to
be another schoolmaster, and I cannot stay."
He said to himself how blind and stupid he had been
not to think of that. Of course the poor child must seek
a fresh home.
" But, Alice," he said, wonderingly, " where shall you
go ? What shall you do ? "
" I cannot tell," she answered. " One says I had
better be a governess ; another that I had better learn
something by which I could get a living. Oh, Hu¬
bert, all my happy life I have been living like the flowers;
without a thought as to 'laboring and spinning.' I
never thought of my father's death ; it never occurred
to me that he would die and leave me."
" Are you quite alone in the world ?" asked Hubert,
thoughtfully. " Have you no friends, no relations—
none of what in homely country phrase is called ' mother's
kin?"'
She shook her head sadly.
•JO A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
"I believe that I am quite alone," she said. "When
I have left you I shall be amons; strangers."
" What plan did you think of yourself ?" he asked.
" I do not know," and the blue eyes were raised hope¬
lessly to his. " I suppose I must do as other orphan
girls do—go away, go and teach some children. There
is one comfort me—my heart will soon break, away from
you. Oh, Hubert, Hubert, I love you so! can you do
nothing to make me happier ? "
She clasped her arms round his neck, hiding her
golden head on his breast, weeping bitter, passionate
tears. His face grew very pale and grave ; he trembled,
and his heart beat. Her very loneliness, her sorrow, her
desolation, appealed to him as nothing else could have
done ; all his better, kinder feelings were aroused.
" I can do one thing for you, my darling, if you will
permit me," he said. " I will make you my wife."
" Your wife ! But, Hubert, that would ruin you."
" No ; we must manage better than that," he replied.
" I hardly like to suggest it to you, Alice, now that
you are so lonely, but if you would consent to a private
marriage, we should have no more difficulty. Would
you do that ? "
"Yes," she whispered, faintly; "anything rather
than be separated from you "
" Then it shall be so. We can be married in London,
and I will take you abroad. You will not mind living
abroad ?"
" Anything rather than leave you," she repeated.
" Then it shall be so. I could not bear the thought
of your going out into the bleak, wide world, to teach
strange children. I could not bear to think of these
little white hands working for bread. If you will be my
wife, my darling, I will be tender and true to you—■
tender and true."
" I can hardly believe it," she murmured ; " it seems
too good to be true."
" Tell every one who speaks to you about it that you
are going to live with friends," he said. And then he
hastened away from her to make the necessary arrange¬
ments.
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
CHAPTER XVI.
" i will trust you anywhere."
In after years it was all like a dream to him ; the
hurried journey to London ; the dark, misty morning ;
the old gray church by the river-side, where one saw
everything through a fog, as it were, a dim yellow light
that seemed to float through the aisles and cling to the
pillars; the clergyman who went through the ceremony
in an indifferent kind of-manner, as though everything
in the way of births, deaths, and marriages was so
much a matter of course to him that it was hardly worth
a thought—a clergyman with a drawling, tuneless voice
that seemed to give no meaning to the sacred words he
uttered ; the two witnesses, one a pew-opener, and the
other a sexton—he had not dared to take any friend or
servant of his own.
Then came a hurried drive through London streets ;
a dim, halt-feverish dream of the long railway ride, with
the sweet face by his side ; then of the blue Channel
waters, with the sun shining on the coast of France;
of a rapid sail over the smooth sea, with the waves
chanting the burden of a love story in his ear ; of land¬
ing in the fair country of France, with his young wife
by his side, and making a home there.
These memories returned to him in after years just
as one hears the sound of half-forgotten music in a
dream. ,
A home ! The word means so much ; but in his
case it was not what it is with others. A happy home
is a paradise. Married life, where the marriage is in
every respect equal, one of true love, resembles the
life of Eden. But Hubert Ruthven did not find the
paradise that he had anticipated.
Tor some few months, while the summer and the
sunshine lasted, with the magic of fragrant flowers, and
7?
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
the singing birds, all was well ; half the charm lay in
the lovely season, and half in the beautiful face of his
young wife ; but when the golden light of the summer
faded, and he began to know by heart every change on
that most fair face, he grew slightly wearied of it.
The truth was that Alice was not his equal. Had
the difference lain solely in birth and wealth, it would
not have mattered ; it was of far deeper import.
Intellectually, she was greatly his inferior. She had
a certain kind of poetry and passion about her that had
charmed him ; but there was nothing to sustain the
charm. She was wanting, too, in the polished refine¬
ment, in the exquisite good breeding, he had been ac¬
customed to admire.
It is a great mistake to imagine that men can waste
any great or vehement affection on a pretty face, unless
there be either a beautiful soul or a beautiful mind with
it. It charms for a short time, but the charm is soon
ended ; then, unless there are higher and nobler quali¬
ties to take its place, the love dies with the glamor.
Who cares to open continually the pages of a well-
known book. Once well known, and the need for read¬
ing it ceases.
So it is with human beings ; a slight character,
feeble, fragile, easily understood, soon loses all power
to interest or charm, and satiety follows.
Alice Ruthven was young, beautiful, with a poetry
and tenderness about her that were infinitely charming ;
but when she had looked her fairest, when she had told
her husband over and over again, in sweetest words,
how dearly she loved him, when she had put her most
tender thoughts into most tender and loving words, all
was over. She had no intellectual charm ; and she
half-shocked him more often than he cared to own by
some action or careless expression to which he, one of the
most fastidious of men, was quite unaccustomed.
A few weeks after his hasty and ill-advised marriage,
Hubert Ruthven knew that he had destroyed the hap¬
piness of his own life."
" She shall never know it," he said to himself. " I
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
73
will make her happy, even if I never know another day's
happiness myself.' She shall not know I repent. She
shall not know that I am wearied already of a tie that
can never be broken again in life. I have brought my
fate upon myself. I have erred in concealment, and I
must abide by the consequences."
So he devoted himself, with a heroism worthy of a
better cause, to his young wife. He remained abroad
all summer, and she never found out that he was weary
of her. It was impossible not to be touched by her
tenderness. She would clasp her white arms round his
neck, and tell him that he made all her happiness, all
her sunshine; that he was a king and a hero—sweetest
praise from lips we love, but not so sweet from lips that
tire us.
Hubert Ruthven hardly knew whether it was a relief
or a disappointment to him when he received a short,
peremptory letter from Lord Arncourt, worldly and
cynical as usual.
" My dear nephew," it ran, "you will not, in all prob¬
ability, thank me if I ask why you are loitering so long
on the Continent ? Youth has its secrets ; I never in.
quire into them. Youth haS its engrossing pursuits; I
never care to interfere with them. I hope sincerely
that you have been following the light of bright eyes,
or the wave of a white hand ; there is no distraction more
pleasing than such a pursuit. But—and here I speak
seriously—at the juncture England needs all her best
and bravest sons. There is much work to be done.
There is a seat in Parliament awaiting you, and you
must support Lord L in those measures which are
really so beneficial to the country at large. Let me see
you at Neversleigh at the end of the week."
Long after he read that letter Hubert Ruthven sat
absorbed in thought. He had all his life longed for
such an opening as this. He was pondering deeply,
anxiously, when the clasp of two soft white arms round
his neck disturbed him.
" Hubert, you are thinking of some very grave mat¬
ter," said a sweet voice. "Tell me what it is."
74
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
And, simply because he was taken by surprise, he
told her. Her beautiful face grew very wistful and sad
as she listened.
"You must not give up your career for my sake,
Hubert," she said, slowly. " You have sacrificed much
time to me. I must be content, even though you
should be obliged to leave me. Nothing can take away
the happy consciousness that I am your wife."
He had not expected such heroism from her.
" Have you remembered, Alice, that if I leave you
now to do my uncle's bidding, it is very uncertain when
I may be able to join you again ?"
" I must not think of that. I must remember
nothing except that a good wife never stands in her
husband's light. I can give you nothing. I can do
nothing. But at least I can show you how much I love
you by letting you go."
He looked down on the sweet, pale face.
" Do you really mean this, Alice ? " he asked again.
" Yes," she smiled faintly. "You must go, Hubert.
You must make a name so famous that when your uncle
comes to know who shares it, he may forgive me for
the sake of the glory that coVers you."
" But, Alice, darling, he will never know," was the
grave reply. " I shall never dare to tell him."
" Then we must do the best we can ; I will not be a
stumbling-block to you. Nothing can alter the fact
that I am your wife. I shall try to be worthy of you—
to be brave as you."
It was something of a relief to him that the offer of
the sacrifice came from her.
"You will not mind my leaving you alone, Alice,
uncertain as to my going or coming? You will trust
me in far-off England ?"
The light on her face was beautiful to see.
" I will trust you anywhere, Hubert. The last thing
that will distress me will be a doubt of you. I shall
have no room in my heart for it—no room for anything
save blessings and prayers, and faithful love."
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION. 75
And as he accepted the sacrifice from her, he said
to himself :
" There is something grand about Alice after all."
Ten days afterward he was delighting Lord Arn-
Court by working hard to secure his (Hubert's) election.
CHAPTER XVII.
" i shall always remember you."
More and more dream-like became the marriage,
and the few months that followed it. Alice Ruthven
was left in the fair land of France, in one of the pret¬
tiest houses in Provence, a pretty little villa, under the
shadow of trailing vine-leaves—a home where sunshine
and beauty did their best ; where sweetest flowers evei
blossomed, and the sky was ever smiling. She wanted
for nothing. From the income that Lord Arncourt
allowed him, Hubert Ruthven made ample provision
for her. True, that in order to do so, he was obliged to
submit to many privations ; but that he did cheerfully
If his whole income would have made up to her for his
waning love, he would have cheerfully laid it at her feet.
Besides this sum that was sent to her regularly as the
day came round, there was rarely a week passed with¬
out his sending her books, music, dresses—anything
that he thought would please her, and show how con¬
tinually she lived in his thoughts.
The meeting between Lord Arncourt and his
nephew was most cordial. Hubert was congratulated
upon his improved appearance. Then they began to
speak of more serious matters.
" You were always desirous of doing something for
yourself," said Lord Arncourt ; " this is your golden
opportunity. Assist Lord L in the passing of this
measure, on which his heart is fixed, and your career is
76 A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
certain. I should think there can be no doubt of your
election ? "
" If hard work can guarantee my return, it is sure,"
he replied ; " for I shall leave nothing undone that can
secure it."
" You must get the Duke of Ormescombe's interest.
Since he purchased Hernely Park, he leads the county.
His influence will carry you through anything. You
must also try to persuade the duke's daughter, Lady
Isora, to take an interest in your election," he contin¬
ued. " There is not a young squire or farmer that will
say nay to her."
" I should fancy that political feeling was higher
than mere admiration for feminine beauty," said
H ubert.
" Should you ? " replied Lord Arncourt. " Ah, my
dear nephew, on that subject, as on many others, you
have much to learn. You are going to Hernely Castle.
Ask Lady Isora to be kind enough to grace your colors
by wearing them, and to make you some favors—knots
of ribbon and rosettes : then you will see how far what
you are pleased to call feminine beauty exceeds mere
political feeling."
On the morning following Hubert rode over to
Hernely, and was most warmly welcomed by the duke
and duchess. He inquired after Lady Isora, and was
told she was out sketching in the park. Then he spoke
to the duke about the object of his coming, and was de¬
lighted to find that all the Hernely influence would be
exerted in his favor. The duke was pleased to be most
complimentary to him.
" I am always delighted," he said, " to see young men
of your age anxious,to serve their country. You will
make a name for yourself, quite independently of the
title you inherit. If I could be young over again, I
should be more ambitious than I have been hitherto."
Before leaving the castle, Hubert accepted an invita¬
tion to dine there on the following day. Then he bade
farewell to the duke and duchess.
As he rode home through the park, he thought of
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
77
Alice—her sweet, pleading face, her wistful eyes, her
gentle, tender, loving manner. He tried to make his
heart warm with pleasant memories of her ; but, despite
himself, despite all that he could do, there was the terrible
sensation of a great weight, of an unpleasant secret, that
must in time destroy him.
The golden sun shone above his head, the light came
slanting through the trees, the fragrant flowers bloomed
beneath his feet, the wind whispered, the birds sang, but
Hubert rode on, blind to all beauty, buried in his own
sad thoughts concerning his secret marriage.
He was roused by the shying of his horse, who was
frightened by the baying of a hound. Looking through
the trees whence the sound proceeded, he saw a picture
that never died from his mind. A beautiful girl seated
near a stately group of oak trees, all the materials for
sketching lying around her, and a magnificent hound
stretched out at her feet.
She look up as the deep growl was repeated, and
when she saw Hubert Ruthven, a deep flush covered
her face. She rose instantly, and then Hubert recog¬
nized Lady Isora.
He sprang from his horse and held out his hand to
her. He could not help the sudden delight that flashed
into his eyes and trembled on his lips.
" Mr. Ruthven," said Lady Isora, " I did not know
that you had returned. Were you going to ride over us ?
Lion, for shame! you ought to know my friends."
She laid her white hand on the hound's shaggy coat,
while she looked up into Hubert's face with a smile that
dazzled and bewildered him.
u Lion ought to have known better than to have
barked at you," she continued. " I must apologize for
him."
" Perhaps it is his method of bidding me welcome,"
said Hubert, laughing. "I have been over to the castle,
and I have a great favor to ask of you, Lady Isora."
" We will make this a hall of audience then," she re¬
plied, sitting down again under the trees. " And, Mr.
Ruthven, pray let me say it will be difficult for you to
78
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
ask a favor that I shall not feel great pleasure in grant¬
ing-"
She looked up at him with such kindly eyes—with
such a bright beam of welcome on her face, that he was
inexpressibly touched.
" How kind you are to me," he said, taking a seat by
her side ; " I am quite touched by your goodness, Lady
I?*
sora.
" If Lion here could speak, he would tell you that I
never forget old friends."
" I should hardly dare to claim admittance even in
the most humble rank of Lady Isora's friends," he replied.
" Have you forgotten how we talked the first and only
time we met ? " she said, laughingly. " I shall always re¬
member yon, because I said more to you than I ever did
to a stranger. I was quite ashamed when I came to
think it over."
" I can only hope that you will repeat the kindness,"
he said ; and Lady Isora's beautiful eyes drooped shyly
from his.
If he had been a little vainer—-if he had had a better
opinion of himself—if he had been more worldly, and
more of a gallant, he would have read correctly the lan¬
guage of those eyes, he would have understood why the
lips trembled, why the little^vhite hands were hidden
from him.
But he was not vain, and he never dreamed that the
beautiful, high-born girl remembered him
CHAPTER XVIII.
" she is a noble woman ! "
Had Lady Isoraand Mr. Ruthven met in a drawing-
room, they would have been pleased to see each other,
cordial and unaffected in their intercourse ; but meeting
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
79
here, out in the woods, gave a charm to the interview
nothing else could have added. Hubert found himself
opening his own mind to Lady Isora as he had never
done to any one before. He found himself confiding to
her the ambition that yet was not all " ambition's sake "
—telling her how he had always longed for a life that
should be distinguished, and to leave its record behind
it-
"You do not think such ambition is wrong, Lady
Isora ? " he said.
She raised her beautiful, noble face to his, her eyes
bright with grand thoughts, her lips trembling with the
eloquent words that rushed to them.
" I ! " she replied. " When a man's ambition is noble,
then ambition becomes a grand passion. It is one I
can sympathize so entirely with. I can understand the
grandeur of devoting one's life to a great object. Women
have no such happiness. I should like to devote my life
to a life filled with noble projects."
Her words were so frank and open, so entirely de¬
void of all personal reference, that he could not help
seeing that they were upoken without one thought of
him, still they made him tremble as words had never
done before.
An hour passed, and it seemed to him swifter than
a minute. Lady Isora took out her pretty little watch
and uttered a cry of surprise as she saw the time.
" The bell will have rung for luncheon," she said,
"and they will think I am lost. You are going to dine
with us to-morrow, Mr Ruthven ?"
He muttered something about having that pleasure ;
but he did not know himself what he was saying.
" We will finish our conversation then," she said ;
" and in the meantime take my promise that I will work
hard to help you, and shall rejoice with all my heart in
your success."
Then, with a few more graceful words, she bade him
adieu, and he stood, hat in hand, watching her as she
walked, with her proud, graceful step, down the long
avenues of trees.
8o
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
Well, he had seen her again ! He knew that he
should so see her. What need to feel this bewildering
surprise ? There was nothing new to him in the
queenly, womanly beauty, in her magnificent intelligence,
the quickness of intellect, her bright, poetical fancy.
He had met her before, and had owned to himself that
she was worthy to be wooed and won by a king. What
need tcvstand there like one entranced ? He had a wife,
a fair, gentle, loving girl, as unlike this grand woman as
a purple violet is unlike a passion-flower.
"Heaven bless her?" he said; "she is a noble
woman ! " Then he mounted his horse again, and rode
home through the smiling summer woods.
Lord Arncourt was much pleased with his nephew's
account of his visit to Hernely.
"If the duke takes up your cause in earnest," he
said, "your election is sure. Did you see the Lady
Isora ?"
The master of Neversleigh smiled to himself as he
noted his nephew's confusion, and heard that he had
overtaken the lady in the park, and had had a long con¬
versation with her.
" I hear no more about the village love," thought the
cynical old nobleman ; " it must have all died away.
Lady Is^ra will win, and I shall live to see Hubert one
of the first men in England after all. The name of
Arncourt will live in the annals of the land."
He was wary and wise enough never to mention the
name of his " village love " to Hubert. " Tetter to let
him forget all about it," he thought, "and throw him as
much as possible into Lady Isora's society."
On the day following. Hubert went to Hernely
Castle, and there found that the duke had already been
working hard for him. He had secured some of the
best votes and most influential men. LI is success was
certain.
Lady Isora met him with the frank welcome of an
old friend, and as he saw the deference paid to her, the
homage offered to her, he owned that his uncle had been
perfectly right; in all England he could have chosen no
A WOMAN'S TEMPT A HON. 8l
other lady who would have made him so beautiful, so
earnest, so true, so suitable a wife—and this he found
out too late.
CHAPTER XIX.
"this will not be denied me."
The election, thanks to the influence of the Duke
of Ormescombe and the charms of his lovely daughter,
was won. Hubert Ruthven was duly returned member
for the ancient and time-honored borough of Neversleigh.
Lord Arncourt was delighted. To Lady Isora, who
was radiant with triumph, Lord Arncourt was courtesy
and deference itself. His shrewd eyes saw that to
which Hubert was completely blind—the" fact of the
young girl's real and great liking for him.
" It will, perhaps, be better for me not to interfere,"
he said to himself. " Let them take their own time, go
their own road ; it will come right in the end. Hubert
cannot resist loving a woman so beautiful and gifted as
Lady Isora."
If he had known that his nephew had married the
schoolmaster's daughter after all, he would most certainly
have disinherited him ; so that it was well for Mr. Ruth¬
ven that he kept his secret.
Time passed on, and the new member from Never¬
sleigh began to be known as a power in the land. His
maiden speech was considered one of the grandest pieces
of oratory known since the days of Chatham. Political
leaders consulted him, and were unfeignedly glad of his
opinion and his support. He wrote several pamphlets
on the leading questions of the day, which were con¬
sidered invaluable. In short, Lord Arncourt had every
reason to be proud of his nephew, and proud he was.
Nothing is more delightful to the young than well-
earned success such as his ; but those who looked deeper
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
than the mere surface, found in the talented young
member, the gifted orator, the rising young man of the
day, a vein of sadness and of melancholy that was difficult
to understand.
Lady Isora was one of the first to observe this.
True, he loved his wife after a fashion. She looked
lovely enough, her sweet face and golden head framed
by the pink and white apple-blossoms. She had charmed
him by her artless tenderness, she had quoted pret¬
ty poems to him, and he had mistaken all this for gen¬
ius ; but of power to sympathize with, or even understand
the loftier aims of his iife, she had none. It was much
to be feared that in the eyes of pretty, simple, rustic
Alice, the Parliament House resembled a bear-garden,
rather than anything else. She did not understand
such dry affairs as were discussed there. So, when Mr.
Ruthven talked to his wife of those hopes that made life
so pleasant to him, of the plans that made the future so
fair, she who-should have been vitally interested, thought
of a thousand other things. He, looking into her face,
hoping it would kindle into enthusiasm, could not fail to
notice its dreamy, absorbed expression, could not fail to
see that her thoughts were not his.
Gradually he ceased to speak to her of those hopes ?
his thoughts became more centered in himself, he
ceased to look to his wife for sympathy in his ideas, and
a shadow, that was at first so slight as to be hardly per¬
ceptible, grew between them, and finally parted them.
Now he was in the very flush of success—everything
had gone well with him ; fame and fortune lavished
their brightest gifts upon him ; but he had that to hear
which would darken his life as clouds darken the sum¬
mer sky.
He learned the bitter truth in time—the truth that
mars a life as nothing else can ; the truth that scared
his heart as with an iron hand. He learned that the true,
deep love of his life was given, not to the pretty, loving,
gentle wife whom he had married out of compassion,
but to the noble girl whose sweetest words and bright¬
est smiles were all for him.
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
83
An honorable man, despite his one fault, he deter¬
mined to fly from danger, to go where he would no more
see the noble face, or hear the voice whose lightest
tones thrilled his heart. He would do as brave men had
done before him—fly from danger. He told Lord Arn-
court that he should greatly prefer living in London, and
his uncle, almost sullenly, consented.
•' That does look as though he cared much for Lady
Isora," thought the disappointed nobleman; "surely,
when every other wish has been granted, this will not
be denied me."
Hubert Ruthven never forgot the day on which he
announced his intention to Lady Isora. He had gone
over to Hernely, meaning to keep his secret faithfully—
nothing was further from his thoughts than betraying
it.- He found Lady Isora alone ; the duke and duchess
had gone out; and he remembered the day as long as
he lived, because it was the day on which he betrayed his
own secret and discovered hers. There was a flush of
golden sunlight on the sky—the white lilies were tinged
with it, the roses reveled in it, the birds rejoiced over it,
even Hubert Ruthven felt the weight at his heart grow
less as he passed into the grounds where Lady Isora
was sitting under the shade of her favorite tree. She
looked up at the sound of his footsteps, and a deep
crimson blush rose even to her brow. He saw it, and
his heart beat more quickly, his pulse thrilled, every
nerve quivered ; he sat down by her side, and the silence
that fell over them was more eloquent than words. She
was the first to break it.
" I did not expect you to-day," she said, gently. " I
thought you had joined the grand party at Huntly
Manor."
" I find that I am compelled to live in London," he
said, looking away from her, " and I came to-day to say
good-by."
There was no sound ; she made no answer; the
hand that held the wild roses dropped them, and fell
nerveless at her side.
84
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
" I may not have time to ride over again," he con>
tinned, " and I had a few leisure hours to-day."
Still no answer. Then he turned to look at her,
and a cry of surprise escaped him. The beautiful face
had grown white even to the lips—a dreadful pallor;
the proud, frank eyes wore a startled look of horror;
the sweet lips were quivering. He looked at her, power
less to speak.
" You are going," she said, faintly.
The tone of her voice, so full of pain, and her keen
anguish went straight to his heart.
" I—I am obliged to go," he cried, with a burst of
despair. " Lady Isora, I am the most unhappy man
that ever lived."
She was silent for some minutes ; then she said,
gently:
" There are times when every one is unhappy, I be¬
lieve. Brave people bear pain in silence ; weak ones
cry out."
She grasped the wild roses as she spoke, and turned
to him with a smile on her face; but he who had seen
that face, with its look of startled anguish, its deadly
pallor, its utter despair, knew that the woman he loved
so dearly, loved him.
" Soldiers march up in the very face of the cannon at
the word of command," he said. " Brave men lie down
to die at the call of duty. I must not be less brave than
these."
" Has duty called you ? " she asked, gently, while
the birds sang, and the flowers waved in the wind.
" Yes," he replied ; " not only duty, but honor."
" Then you must go," said Lady Isora. " Never
mind what it costs you, or any one else—go,"
The wind whispered round them, the sweet, fair
flowers bent their heads as though in sheer pity.
" You shall say good-by to me here,"she continued ;
" and I shall always hope for and dream of your success."
." You are very good to me, Lady Isora," he replied,
simply. " Good-by."
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
85
He held her hand one minute in his ; he controlled
the passions that surged in his heart.
" May Heaven bless you," he continued, in a falter¬
ing voice. '• I must not trust myself to say more."
" Good-by," she repeated.
The next moment he had gone, and she lay there,
with her face buried in the sweet, crushed blossoms,
weeping as women weep, for the love she had given,
and given in vain.
CHAPTER XX.
a husband's secret.
Two years passed, and the fame of Hubert Ruthven
was firmly established ; men looked at him as the greatest
power of the day. Lord Arncourt found all his hopes
and wishes realized ; but one thing puzzled him, and
that was his nephew's aversion to the mention of
marriage.
Times had so far altered that it was now Lord Arn¬
court who stood in awe of his nephew. It was still in
his power to disinherit him, but no man living could
rob Hubert Ruthven of the fame and honor that were
justly his.
The mention of marriage ceased at last. When the
Duke of Ormescombe came to London with his family,
the young member paid him a hurried call, pleaded
excess of work, and left his grace wondering at his cool¬
ness and seeming estrangement.
He heard from time to time of Lady Isora's triumphs
Rumor gave her many suitors, and gossips wondered
why she cared for none of them. Hubert Ruthven said
to himself sadly that he could have told them the reason
why. He never sought to meet her. Honor had spoken,
and he had obeyed more quickly than most men would
have done.
He went at rare intervals to see his wife. He was
86
A WOMAN'S TEMPT A TJON.
kind, considerate, and thoughtful ; but she, with the
quick instinct that belongs to a loving, sensitive, poetical
nature, divined his secret, and understood that his
marriage with her had marred his life.
In time the certainty of that knowledge killed her.
Other and less sensitive women would have made the
best of such a life, would have enjoyed its luxuries, and
have kept the dark shadow in the background. Not so
with Alice Ruthven ; she brooded over it in melancholy
silence. All the glory of the Italian skies, the flush of
color that lay over the land, the hue of the flowers, the
song of the birds, the calm of the lakes, the grandeur of
the mountains, failed to impress her. She wearied of
them as she wearied of everything else, except her hus¬
band, and the fatal mistake she had led him into.
It preyed upon her mind, it saddened her spirits, it
killed her as slow poison would have done. The gloomy,
sullen thoughts never left her. The idea upon which
she dwelt was that she was an unloved, neglected wife
■—that marrying her had been her husband's ruin.
She was so entirely alone that she had no opportunity
of throwing off these thoughts. There was only her little
child to whom she could speak, and every sight of that
little fair face filled her with new sorrow.
The thought of a private marriage had not been dis¬
pleasing to her ; she had said to herself that she did not
care for trifles ; the only thing that she did care for was,
that she should be Hubert Ruthven's wife.
But now she found these trifles hard to bear the
world looked coldly upon her ; she was lonely, isolated,
miserable. The husband she loved so dearly seemed as
far from her as though she had never been married ; and
the end of it all was, that she grieved over it until her
grief killed her.
Hubert Ruthven was not present when his wife
died. He knew that she was delicate and ailing, that
she often mentioned the fact of her illness ; but he had
been accustomed to that now for many months, and,
after the fashion of men, thought but little of it.
The news of her death was a sudden and terrible
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
87
blow ; none the less terrible that remorse was largely
intermixed with it. He blamed himself most keenly
for having neglected her, for having allowed long months
to pass without seeing hen.
It was too late now for remorse, for pity, or for love ;
she whom it would have comforted was dead. He knew
that before he could even reach the pretty villa by the
lake-side, she would be buried. All that would remain
to him of the beautiful girl he had seen under the apple-
blossoms, the loving wife whose greatest fault had been
her too great love for him, was the little child.
He was in the midst of business, but he went at once,
and found his wife had been buried the day before his
arrival. He hastily made arrangements for the little
one ; then he returned to England.
He was an honorable man. At the call of honor he
had fled from temptation ; he would not now open his
heart to the joy that was in store for him. He waited
one whole year before he even sought Lady Isora's
presence—a space of time that in his own mind he
called " the year of atonement."
He said to himself that he would run the risk; that
if during that year she married, he would look upon it
as a just retribution; but that if she remained single,
he would no longer shut out from his life the joy that
was to brighten it.
A year passed, and he sought her. The story of
their love needs no relating ; he learned at last, from the
sweet lips that had never been stained by a false word,
that this noble, beautiful, high-born lady had loved him
from the first moment she had seen him.
How happy he was, how he thanked Heaven for
this greatest of gifts, how he resolved always to lead
such a life as should prove his gratitude to Heaven,
need not be told.
One bright spring morning, when the whole land
lay smiling, aijd the fair, fresh flowers were opening
their fragrant hearts to the sun, Hubert Ruthven and
Lady Isora were married, and it seemed to him that
since Adam had wandered amid the shady groves of
88
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
Paradise, no man had ever been so happy or so blessed.
Lord Arncourt was delighted ; he had nothing left
to wish for.
" We shall find the Arncourts take their proper
place now," he said " second to none."
A year afterward, when a beautiful, dark-eyed baby
was shown to him as Hubert's son, tears filled the old
man's eyes, and he bent his head humbly.
" I have done but little," he said, " that Heaven
should so richly bless me."
He died a few months afterwards, and then Hubert
Ruthven became Lord Clancey Arncourt. He was
happy and prosperous ; his beautiful wife and lovely
child were idolized by him. It was not often that the
shadow of the memory of that first fair young wife
came over.him. He had done his best for the little Nina ;
he had found her a comfortable home with Madame de
St Lance; he had arranged for her future; and he
imagined himself in some way entitled to forget the
past. That had been a sad past for him.
He never told his wife one word of that first marri¬
age ; he never alluded to it ; she remained always in
most perfect ignorance of it. The happiness of her
married life, he always liked to remember, was without
a cloud.
So eight years passed away, bringing nothing but
fame, honor, and happiness to the lord of Neversleigh.
No other children came to gladden the hearts of Lord
Arncourt and his wife ; but his son, the heir of that
ancient title and vast estate, grew in strength and
beauty, They called him Darnley, after one of the
heroes of their race.
Then, after eight years of unclouded happiness, such
as rarely falls to the lot of mortal man, the blow fell
which brought Hubert, Lord Arncourt, to the very
depths of despair. In one short week he lost both wife
and child, Darnley was seized with a violent attack of
fever, and Lady Arncourt, who worshiped her only son,
would insist upon attending him herself. She caught
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
89
the fever from him, and, after a few day's illness, both
died.
No words could paint the terrible effects of this
blow on Lord Arncourt. It seemed to him that all
hope, all life had ended; that a funeral pall lay between
him and the smiling heavens ; that desolation reigned
supreme on earth.
On the day his wife died, people said that his hair
grew gray, and the shadow of old age fell over him. He
was never the same again. It might be said of him, as
of many others, that the nobler and better part of him
lay buried in his wife's grave.
CHAPTER XXI.
" what is there in store for me ?"
A beautiful garden scene in the fair land of
France, a bright, sunny day, the sky of that deep blue
tint only seen in the land of poesy and song, floods of
golden sunlight pouring down on the flowers, on-myrtle
and vine ; birds of bright plumage singing the sweetest
songs ; a day when life seems one long luxury, and one
long song. A pretty villa called the Chateau Beau-
seant, standing near the forest of St. Germain, in the
midst of the beautiful country of the Seine et Oise. .
The dark green trees of the forest formed a back¬
ground, the clear deep stream of the Seine ran in front,
a long white terrace over which the vines trailed in
luxuriant abundance, led to a large garden, and the
garden sloped to the banks of the beautiful river. It
was an earthly paradise, There was every variety of
color, every lovely line of sky, of tree, of flower ; there
was every beauty of nature; but the fairest part of the
picture was the faces of the two young girls on the ter¬
race, who stood watching the rapid disappearance of the
small pleasure boats down the stream.
Two such faces as one only sees in pictures or in
qo
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
dreams ; beautiful, rich in color, full of poetry, of pas¬
sion, of genius ; alike in some respects, different in
others ; remarkable in one thing, that both were young,
but the face of one was as the face of an angel, full of
goodness ; the face of the other was one that indicated
stong feelings, and was not a face that took one's
thoughts to heaven.
" I wish," said the young girl, whom every one
called Reine, from her grand, queenly hauteur, and
brilliant beauty, " I wish that I were in one of those
boats."
" Perhaps you would not be much happier," replied
a sweet voice. "Happiness lies within, not around
us."
The dark eyes flashed unutterable scorn, the regal
head was thrown back proudly, a light, mocking laugh
came from lips beautiful enough to have wooed and won
a world.
" That is like you, Belle ; you are a living volume of
good sayings. If there is one thing in the world for
which I thank Heaven more than another, it is that I
am not so good as you."
"You have little to be thankful for in that case,"
was the quiet reply. " You waste your emotions,
Reine ; you use so much over trifles."
Seemingly the subject already wearied beautiful
Reine, for she sang the first few lines of one of
Beranger's popular songs, and again Belle turned to her
with a slightly shocked expression.
" Reine, you forget how much mamma dislikes that
song."
Another little, mocking laugh, and the gay voice
replied,—
" What one does in mamma's presence and in her
absence are two different things. I console myself for
all misfortunes. If mamma forces me to assume a
demureness in' her presence that I do not feel, in her
absence I shall sing the most republican of Beranger's
songs. There must be some compensation for me."
Belle did not smile ; she was looking over the green
A WOMAN'S TEMFTA TION.
trees of St. Germain, and the clear, deep river. A sigh
of unutterable satisfaction came from her lips.
" How beautiful our home is, Reine. How dearly I
love it."
" So is the outside of a prison beautiful, if it be
built atter grand Gothic style. Home, and prison mean
the same things to me."
" You talk so wildly. If ever you live to see the
interior ot a prison, you would realize the difference."
Reine only answered by a careless laugh, as she
parted the trailing branches of the vine ; but the time
was to come when both would remember the lightly-
spoken words.
" You would be satisfied and contented anywhere,"
continued Reine. "Thank Heaven, I have a little
more spirit than you. I am tired to death of Beau-
seant, and am wicked enough to own it. I am tired of
what mamma calls the ' pleasures of domestic life.'
Goodness fatigues me, as I have no doubt it does many
others, only they are not so frank as to say so."
Belle looked sadly at the lovely, laughing face.
" I know you do not mean what you say, Reine ;
you are not so careless as you try to make yourself."
" Indeed I am. I am quite as wicked as I pretend
to be, and my wickedness consists in this—that I long
for variety, for anything that could bring a stir or a
change in this life of ours. I would rather dance at a
fair, or row a boat, or do anything rather than remain
here quiet much longer."
"But, Reine, you forget mamma. You surely love
her ?"
" Surely I do ; but a girl cannot spend a whole life
in loving her mother. Belle, do you never think of
lovers and marriage—of a life different from this, as the
sky at noontide differs from the sky at night ? "
A slight flush, delicate as the faintest rose-bloom,
passed over the fair young face.
" If I have foolish dreams, I must not tell them. I
do not expect life to be always quiet and pleasant as it
is now."
92
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
" You own that much. Look, Belle, is. it possible,
is there any hope of such a delightful reality ? The
postman is really coming here."
There was evidently no mistake. Five minutes
more and the postman had opened the gates of the
chateau. Reine went to meet him, and the old man
bowed low before that vision of queenly grace and
beauty. There was one letter, and it came from
England. Reine's face fell as she saw it.
" I did hope it was some kind of invitation to go
somewhere, or to do something," she said, despairingly.
"And it is only a-letter from that most stupid of all
countries, England."
"From England?" repeated Belle. "I did not
know mamma had friends there."
" Nor did I. If the English people are like their
climate, I wish mamma joy of her friends. Come with
me, Belle, to take the letter."
The young girls walked slowly to the long, open
window of a pretty saloon that looked over the flower-
garden. A lady sat at the little table, writing busily, so
busily that she did not even hear the sound of the
light footsteps.
Years have changed Madame de St. Lance. Her
face is still beautiful ; but over her beauty there has
fallen a careworn, haggard expression ; there are silver
threads in her luxuriant hair, and a troubled shadow in
her eyes. The high-born patrician face showed a mind
ill at ease. There was a nervous movement in the
white hand, a quivering of the lips, all showing that
Madame de St. Lance had her own grief and sorrows
to bear.
"Mamma," said Reine, "what could be the most
welcome gift you could receive ? "
A deep sigh came from her lips.
" I do not know, dear child, that earth holds a wel¬
come gift for me," she said ; and the quiet melancholy
in her voice brought a deeper shadow to the two fair
faces.
" Here is a letter from England, I cannot hope it
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
93
will be interesting to you, for I have never heard you
speak of any friends in England."
Madame's face grew even paler ; her lips trembled,
and the hand that eagerly grasped the letter shook so
that she could hardly hold it. She did not offer to open
the letter while the young girls remained with her, but
the moment they had quitted the saloon she opened the
envelope. Before reading it, she raised her eyes lo
heaven.
" What is there in store for me ? " she cried. " Oh,
Heaven ! have I not suffered enough ? "
CHAPTER XXII.
" i did it for the best."
Madame de St. Lance walked to the window.
Near the great beds of crimson roses she saw the two
girls, one with her vivid, glowing, earthly beauty, the
other with the calm, sweet face that one sees in pictures
of saints.
Long and most earnestly madame looked at them.
They were both dear to her ; one from the natural affec,
tion every mother feels for her child, the other from a
long habit of love and care.
" They are lovely girls ! " she murmured to herself ;
"more lovely than any I ever saw, either in the gay
court of Paris or anywhere else. He ought to be
pleased with her."
Then again madame fell into a long, deep reverie ;
her fine, aristocratic face grew paler, a troubled shadow
lay in the depth of her eyes.
" If I could but be sure !" she said ; " if I could but
have one glimpse into the future !"
The wind stirred the vine-leaves, and scattered the
crimson petals of the rose; some.mysterious warning
seemed to come to her in its music, for she grew paler
as she listened to it. The white hand clenched the
94
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
letter, as though she must cling to something lest she
should lose her strength; her lips parted, and then
closed firmly, as though she would fain have murmured
a prayer, but found prayers unavailing. She made a
strange picture as she stood there, framed by the vine-
leaves, her face all pale and eloquent with emotion.
" It is too late to repent now," she said to herself;
" I did it for the best, and I failed."
Then a musical laugh from Reine caught her atten¬
tion, and, with a sudden start, she remembered that the
letter was still in her hands.
Slowly, and as one goes to perform a painful duty,
madame went down the leaf-covered path.
" Reine ! Belle ! I want you ; I have something to
say to you. Will you come with me ? "
They followed her to a pretty little summer-house
that stood almost on the banks of the Seine, wondering
why she wanted them, and what brought that solemn
expression to her face.
Madame de St. Lance sat down on one of the pretty
rustic chairs that were placed in the summer-house ; the
young girls seated themselves at her feet. Again that
sad, silent, half-frightened mood came over her; her
eyes seemed to linger on the blue waters of the Seine,
as though she would fain ask from them what the future
held.
" Mamma," said Reine, growing impatient at this
strange silence, " I do not wish to be tiresome, but if
you have anything to say, would you mind saying it ?"
Then madame aroused herself. She was too much
accustomed to the girl's mode of speech to pay much
heed to it. She laid her thin, white hand on the girl's
shoulder.
"What I have got to say concerns us all, but you,
Reine, more than any one else."
" I am very glad—nay, devoutly thankful—that
something concerns me at last," said Reine ; but the
grave look on madame's face somewhat dismayed her.
Madame continued":
" I have kept one secret trom you, my dear children,
A WOMAN'S EMPTATION
95
for several reasons. One was that I believed it would
add to the happiness of us all if that secret were kept :
another was that I believed it would save one of you
from the pain of unutterable longing for that which you
might never attain."
The girls looked at her in wonder. She continued :
"The secret concerns you, Reine. I have brought
you up like sisters, I have loved you both as my own
children, yet I never had but one child. Reine, you are
not my daughter. Listen, while I tell you your own
story ; it is not a common one."
Reine's beautiful face grew deadly pale.
" Not your child ! Oh, mamma, I was not prepared
for anything so cruel as that ! "
" Do you love me so dearly, then, Reine ? " asked
madame, and her voice was sweet in its tenderness.
" Love you, mamma? Of course I love you—whom
else should I love ? Not your child ? Why it seems
as though you had passed the sentence of death upon
me."
Hot tears rose to her eyes, and her lips trembled.
" If I have done wrong in not telling you before,"
said madame, " I beg your pardon. I did it for the best.
I could not forese'e that events would happen as they
have done. Reine, you are not my child except in af¬
fection ; you are the daughter of Lord Arncourt, of
Neversleigh, an English nobleman, who gave you into
my charge when you were but five years old."
" Lord Arncourt! " repeated the girl, in her pretty
French accent. "Oh, mamma! are you jesting with
me, or is it really true ? "
"True! Ah, Reine, you may see by the pain it
gives me in telling, that it is really true. Listen, my
dear child. Your father, when quite young, contracted
a very unequal marriage, a marriage that he was obliged
to conceal, and you, his only child, at your mother's
death, were brought to me. You know best how I
loved you."
" But why—why was my father's marriage unequal ?
How do you mean ? " asked Reine, her head thrown
96
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
proudly back, her face all aglow with indignation. " Un¬
equal in what respect ? "
" Unequal in rank. Your mother as I understood
the story, though beautiful, refined, and gentle, was not
an aristocrat—was not even what the world calls a lady.
She was a schoolmaster's daughter."
" She was a lady, or he would never have married
her," said Reine, quickly, while Belie looked on with
wondering eyes.
Madame laid her hand on the girl's flushed cheek.
" My dear Reine," she said, " be patient. I am only
repeating to you what was told to me by your father
himself. Listen, and I will tell you the story as it was
told to me."
So, while the wind swept the crimson leaves from
the roses and played with the vine, while the flowers
bloomed and the birds sang, Madame de St. Lance re¬
peated the story of that pitiful love and pitiful marriage.
" Did my father love my mother, or did he not ? "
asked the girl, imperiously. " I wish to know "
" My dearest Reine, how can I tell you ?" and
madame's face grew paler.
"I am quite sure," interrupted the girl, "that she
was a lady ; I feel as though my niother must have
been a lady. Why, mamma, what have you told me so
often yourself ? Look at my hands ; they are small, and
white, and slender—you always said that was the mark
of good race."
" You come of good race, Reine, on your father's
side," said madame ; then Belle, with her gentle voice,
joined in :
" Reine, let mamma finish her story, darling; be
patient."
The angry glow died from the beautiful face, and
madame finished what she had to say.
" My father was wrong," cried the girl ; " he had no
right to keep his marriage a secret ! "
" You must not sit in judgment on your own father,
Reine," said madame, severely.
" I must say what I think," was the impatient re-
A WOMAIV'S TEMPTATION.
97
tort. "Why, Belle, you are crying; those are tears
falling on my hands. What is it ? "
" I cannot bear to think that you are not my sister,
after all. Oh, mamma, why need you have told us ?"
Madame started, as one suddenly recalled to a dis¬
agreeable memory.
" You have more to hear yet, my dear children.
This letter that I hold in my hand is from Lord Arn-
court. He—now, Reine, you must be patient—he, soon
after your mother's death, married again—married a
lady in his own rank of life, the daughter of some great
and powerful nobleman. She had one son, who would
have been your father's heir, but mother and son both
died together, and their loss almost maddened him. For
some months—so he writes—he has been incapable of
thought or action ; but now, remembering his other
child, the daughter of the fair young wife he lost so long
ago, he writes to claim you, and asks for you back."
Reine sprang from her seat in uncontrollable excite¬
ment. Belle uttered a little cry of dismay. Madame
continued :
" Lord Arncourt is all that is kind and considerate ;
he says that as you are a stranger, and will necessarily
feel the parting with us very keenly, he hopes that we
will go to England with you. He kindly asks me to
live at Neversleigh as your chaperon ; and remember¬
ing that I had a daughter, prays me to bring Belle as a
companion to you, so that you see we shall not be
parted."
Belle clasped her white arms round Reine's neck.
" I shall not lose you," she cried, "after all ! "
" So I am Lord Arncourt's daughter," said Reine,
musingly.
" I have called you Reine," said madame, " because
at first even you struck me as being a little queen, just
as we called you Belle because you were even so beau¬
tiful when you were a child."
Reine's dark eyes were all aglow.
"Then I have another name," she said; "some
quaint, half-barbarous English name, without doubt-
98
A WOMAN'S TEMP TAT/ON.
" I do not think it barbarous; it is Nina—Nina
Ruthven your father called you when you came here."
" Oh, mamma," said Reine, " only an hour since I
asserted all the English were stupid, and now I am
English myself; that is what Belle would call a just
retribution."
There was so much to tell, and so much to talk of,
that hours passed like minutes. Reine was almost too
excited for speech. Madame's face wore the pale and
sorrowful look of a Madonna. Belle wept without re¬
straint ; but Reine made picture after picture of the
golden future that lay before her.
" Mamma," she cried, suddenly—" ah, me, I shall
never call you anything but mamma—tell me shall I be
Lord Arncourt's heiress? "
" No ; the estates are entailed. I know the heir is a
gentleman called Eric Chilvers ; he will succeed to
the title and estates, unless your father should marry
again."
" Still, as his daughter, I must be heiress to some¬
thing," said Reine ; "he must be rich."
"He is rich," replied madame, quietly; "but it
would not be possible for me even to guess what portion
of his riches would come to you."
And then the summons to dinner came, but Reine
was far too excited by what she had heard to eat."
CHAPTER XXIII.
" I have grievously sinned."
Lord Arncourt sat alone in his library. Years
had passed since he—the brilliant orator, the learned
statesman, the gifted leader of a great party—succeeded
to the title of Lord Arncourt. Years that had stolen
the brightness from his face, that had shadowed his
eyes, that had left deep lines round the firm lips. Hard
work, great anxiety, great responsibilities, had left their
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION. 99
trace upon the handsome face, but neither time nor
work had aged him as sorrow had done.
It would be idle to attempt to describe his grief—
it was beyond all comfort, it was beyond all words.
The brighter, better part of his life had died with his
wife. She had been the life of his life, the soul of his
soul ; she had been to him what the sun is to the earth,
the source of all his brightness, the warmth, the light,
the center of his heart* and life. When she died, it
seemed to him that the world ended. He would fain
have retired from public life, but that he found it im¬
possible—there was no one to take his place—and the
utmost he could do for himself was to secure a few
months' quiet. »
He spent it in thought. There were times when
the wind moaning fitfully through the trees, and the
mists of evening falling, seemed to sadden the whole
earth; times when he wondered if this sudden death of
his beloved wife was a punishment for his neglect of
Alice. The idea gradually took possession of him, and
he pondered over it till it became a kind of mania.
" How differently I would spend my life," he said,
"if I could live it over again!"—that unavailing cry
which has gone up from the depths of so many tortured
souls. For the first time it struck him that perhaps he
had done grievous wrong to Nina. Granted that her
mother was not a lady, that for long years that marriage
had made him wretched, had hampered, spoiled, and
blighted his life, that he had been obliged to keep it secret
from every one, that it had caused him more unhappiness
than words can tell—for all that, Nina was his own
child, and, perhaps, after all, he was guilty before
Heaven. He had tried to place his own responsi¬
bility on other shoulders, and he had succeeded. His
daughter had grown from infancy to womanhood, and
he had never even seen her. She was his own child—
did it lie in his power to do away with all responsibility
over her ?
His son, the very pride of his life, had been taken
from him. There was no one left now but a stranger
IOO
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
to succeed him, and this daughter, whom, in his busy,
prosperous career, he had almost forgotten.
True, Eric Chilvers must succeed him ; but he had
ample fortune with which to endow his daughter should
he make up his mind to send for her. He would not
decide hastily. He wrote for the Duke of Ormescombe
and for Eric. For the first time he revealed the story
of his marriage—a story no one could refuse to believe.
For the first time the Duke understood why Hubert
Ruthven had lived so long alone.
" Isora never knew this story? " he asked.
" No," replied Lord Arncourt ; " I did not tell her
of my marriage. I never loved any woman but her,
and I could not bear to speak to her of another."
Then he asked their advice as to what he should do,
"Send for her by all means," said the duke. " You
ought never to have parted with her. Send for her, and
do your best to atone for past negligence."
" I have grievously sinned," replied Lord Arncourt,
with a melancholy smile ; " but, as far as I can atone,
I will."
He told them the whole story of his marriage, and
of how, at his wife's death, he had taken the little Nina
to Madame de St. Lance.
" And you have never seen her since ?" asked Eric
Chilvers.
" No—I must confess it with shame—never since."
" You do not even know what she is like ? " said the
duke.
" No," he said again ; I have not the least idea. She
was a pretty child, loving and gentle; but I saw so
little of her.
" It seems strange," said his grace, "that this child,
whom you, as it were, gave away, should be the only
one left to you. Send for her at once, Hubert; lose no
time. And were I in your place, I should, send for the
lady with whom she has been living—for her and her
daughter, too. Society will be useful for you, and keep
you from growing too melancholy."
Lord Arncourt had scarcely heard the last few words.
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
101
His eyes were fixed on Eric's face. A sudden idea
had occurred to him—Eric was young, handsome, and
gifted. What if his daughter married his heir? The
relationship between them was so very distant that it
could not matter. The idea delighted him ; his daughter,
after all, would be mistress of Neversleigh—would be
Lady Arncourt. It seems almost the same thing as
though she were his heiress, after all. Perhaps grand¬
children of his own might succeed him, and he had not
liked the idea of leaving all he had to strangprs, even
though those strangers were of his own kith'and kin.
He found himself murmuring the name, " Nina Lady
Arncourt," and the two strangers who were with him
wondered why his face brightened so suddenly.
" I will send at once," he said. " And, Eric, you
need not hurry back to London. Stay with me a few
weeks ; help me to entertain my guests. I shall not
feel at home among the young and gay."
Mr. Chilvers readily consented. He felt some
curiosity as to this young daughter of Lord Arncourt,
and was pleased to have the opportunity of seeing her.
So it was decided, and that day Lord Arncourt wrote
to Madame de St. Lance, inclosing a check for a sum
that startled her. He begged her to use as much ex¬
pedition as possible, for he was anxious to see his child.
Madame wrote to him by return of post, and promised
to be at Neversleigh by the end of the week.
Then Lord Arncourt called his housekeeper, and
bade her make all needful arrangements for the recep¬
tion of three ladies.
The news soon spread in the household.
" My lord had been married before—a marriage he
had been obliged to keep secret from the old lord—
and his daughter was coming home."
" Thank goodness, we shall have ladies to the house
soon ! " was the general exclamation ; and the servants
were so pleased at the idea that they soon ceased to
wonder over the marriage.
The day and the hour had arrived at kngth when
they were expected, and Lord Arncourt sat in the
102
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
library alone. He had tried to keep up appearances, he
had tried to look unconcerned and to speak coolly; but
the very depths of his soul were stirred within him.
The present seemed to disappear, and the past lived
in his memory as vividly as though it were but yester¬
day. He saw the blue sky, the bright sunshine, the
pink and white apple-blossoms with the lovely face
beneath, the face that always brightened and softened
for him ; he heard again the sound of that voice, so long
silent ; he remembered the timid, shy caressing man¬
ner, and this was Alice's daughter coming home to him
-—Alice who had loved him so tenderly, and had died
away from him.
Would she have Alice's face, Alice's tender eyes ?
Would she speak with that low, sweet voice that he had
once thought more musical than the cooing of the ring¬
dove ?
" Oh, Alice," he cried, " have you pardoned me yet
for all the neglect and loneliness that helped to shorten
your life ? 1 will atone for it to your child."
At that moment Eric entered.
" Lord Arncourt, the carriage has arrived. Youare
sure to feel agitated ; shall I bring the ladies here ?"
A few minutes after the door opened, and three
ladies entered, escorted by Eric Chilvers. Lord Arn¬
court rose from his seat; he was breathless, and trem¬
bled with agitation. He tried to speak, but all words
failed him. Madame de St. Lance saw it; she went up
to him with outstretched hands.
He murmured a few words ; then she took the hand
of a tall, beautiful girl, who had the face of a goddess
and the figure of a queen.
" My lord," she said, " this is the child you intrusted to
me, your daughter Nina, whom we have called Reine."
Lord Arncourt clasped the girl in his arms.
" My first words to you must be a prayer for par¬
don," he said. " For your mother's sake, forgive me."
While he was thus speaking Eric Chilvers stood, his
eyes fixed on the lovely face of the girl whom madame
introduced as " Belle."
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
103
CHAPTER XXIV.
" she would make a grand lady arncourt.."
" Of all the new arrivals," said Eric Chilvers to Lord
Arncourt, " madame puzzles me the most."
The two gentlemen were walking on tbr
smoking a cigar. The ladies had retired, as was na'epbk-
perhaps, under the circumstances. The gentlemen we;
busily engaged in discussing them. The moon was shin¬
ing full and bright through the trees, and the night wind
was calm and still.
Lord Arncourt smiled as he replied :
" Madame puzzles you ? Why, Eric, to me she seems
very easy to understand—a lady of high birth and great
wealth, who has lost everything in the world she ever
called her own."
" She has not lost her daughter," said Eric, quickly,
" and I venture to think mademoiselle is a great treasure."
Lord Arncourt looked troubled for one half minute,
then he answered quickly :
" You are right. Belle is a beautiful, charming, gentle
girl. There is something very striking in the repose of
her manner and the grace of her words, But you have
not answered my question, Eric—why does madame
puzzle you ? "
" I cannot explain. There seems to me something
so melancholy, so silent, so reserved about her—an at¬
mosphere of mystery that I cannot penetrate,"
'• You must have been reading some ofWilkie Collins'
fictions, Eric," laughed Lord Arncourt. "There is no
secret about madame, except that I think she has too
vivid a recollection of her early troubles."
"It may be that. She is very elegant, high-bred,
graceful, courteous in her manner ; but shCgives me the
impression of a person who is always brooding over one
io4
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
idea. If I speak to her suddenly, she looks up with a
startled air of one whose thoughts are miles away, whose
mind is engrossed, whose heart is burdened. I cannot
account for the impression, but there it is."
Lord Arncourt laughed again.
" It would not really be wise to destroy your delight¬
ful theory of romance, Eric, but I do not think madame
has any mystery. Her thoughts are more in the past
than in the present."
" How long will she remain here ?" asked Eric.
And -a yen observer would have noticed how his voice
bleCi^d he asked the question.
"I cannot tell. Long as I can persuade her to re¬
main, you may be sure. In all probability till Reine is
married."
Then Lord Arncourt's voice faltered slightly, and he
listened intently for the next word.
Eric smiled.
" I do not think Reine will soon marry," he said. " I
shall be surprised if she does."
" Why ? " asked Lord Arncourt, and he asked the
question in some little agitation.
" Because she is difficult to please. Those brilliant,
beautiful girls generally are."
" Do you think her so beautiful, Eric ? " asked Lord
Arncourt,
" I think her the brightest and loveliest girl I have
seen," was the quiet reply.
" Some people would prefer Belle's style of beauty,"
said his lordship.
" There is no comparison," answered Eric. " They
are both dark ; but Reine's beauty is glowing, full of
color, bright as the noonday sun. Belle's quiet, soft, sub¬
dued, like moonlight over a deep, tranquil lake."
"And which style do you prefer?" asked his lord¬
ship.
" It would be invidious to choose. I am glad that the
golden apple was never given to me as to Paris. I could
not possibly have chosen between those two superb god
desses. I should have divided the fruit."
a woman's temptation.
105
" That would not have done, Eric. Do yovt think
Reine resembles me at all ? "
"No. I have never spoken to you of her mother,
Lord Arncourt. Was she dark or fair ? "
" Fair as a lily. It has often been a matter of sur¬
prise to me that her daughter did not resemble her. My
poor Alice was an English beauty—fair, gentle, with
blue eyes, and bright, fair hair."
" Mademoiselle Reine has spirit enough for all the
Arncourts," said Eric. " How bright, and defiant, and
full of animation she is! "
" The child has plenty of life," was the pleased reply.
"Are you good friends with her ? "
" Yes, I think so ; although we spend the greater part
of our time in disputing."
Lord Arncourt longed to ask more, but he did not
like. There was great dignity about Mr. Chilvers that
did not permit of any liberty being taken with him. He
would fain have said something of the plan that engrossed
him—his marriage with Reine. He had set his whole
heart upon that ; he had wished for it when he saw his
daughter—before he knew even what she was like ; but
now that her brilliant beauty had filled him with wonder
and admiration, he was more anxious than ever.
" She would make a grand Lady Arncourt," he said
to himself ; " she would be more admired than any woman
I know."
But not to Eric Chilvers, his heir and distant kins¬
man, did he say one word. He had resolved, too, that
perhaps it would be better not to say one word to his
daughter.
" It will be better," he thought, "to leave them quite
alone. He must love Reine—nobody could help it, in¬
terference might only spoil all."
He had watched them, and saw with delight that
they spent a great deal of time together. Reine, in her
fearless fashion, was learning to ride, and she would
only take lessons from him. She delighted in teasing
him ; she found out all his peculiarities, and delighted
io6 A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
in trying how much she could tease without angering
him.
Lord Arncourt would listen with delight; her wit
and half-vailed satire amused him ; her high spirits, her
keen enjoyment of life, her great animation and vivacity,
charmed him ; but of his heart's desire Lord Arncourt,
like a wise man said nothing.
The young girls had at first been bewildered by the
change ; the magnificence of Neversleigh startled them
—hey had seen nothing like it. English manners and
customs pleased them; the country—the beautiful
woodland scenery, the grand old trees—charmed them.
" I never thought England was so beautiful," said
Belle one day to Lord Arncourt. " I am amused now
when I think how I used to picture it."
" How was that ?" he asked.
" As always dark, damp, and dreary, with mist and
fog. I did not think the sun ever shone warm and bright ;
but now I like it even better than France. I like the
variation of the climate, and I think that I shall find
something beautiful even in a fog."
" You must see a London fog. Belle. Here we have
only a thin, silvery mist that rises like a curtain, show¬
ing the fair world beneath ; there it is thick and yellow,
dense and damp—it.seems to cling to you ; yet I have
seen beautiful colors in a London fog."
" French people, as a rule, have not a correct idea
of England," said Belle, " Reine used to dislike it very
much.
"That is strange," said Lord Arncourt. " She
should have loved it instinctively, because it was her
own."
"I think," said Belle quietly, "there is more non¬
sense talked about instinct than about anything else in
the world. It seems to me that what people call in¬
stinct is just as often wrong as right."
The girls had been delighted, too, with Lord Arn¬
court.
" How handsome your father is," said Belle to
Reine. " What a noble face—what a grand, chivalrous
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
107
manner. I do not envy you your wealth, Reine, nor
your brilliant future, nor any of the great gifts, and
blessings that are yours, but I do envy you the love and
care of your father."
" My dear Belle ! " was the reply, in a tone of in
effable wonder.
Belle looked up in surprise.
"All moral sentiments are very beautiful," laughed
Reine ; " but I should never think of envying you the
love and care of your mother. Give me solid, tangible
blessings. Love is very well. A nice 'papa,' as Eng¬
lish girls say, is very delightful ; but, for my part, I
would freely give you half the love."
" I do love Lord Arncourt," said Belle, musingly ;
"if he were my father I should worship him."
" Worship away my dear friend—I shall not be
jealous. You must not take any of my promised for¬
tune away from me ; but to the love, as I said before,
you are most unfeignedly welcome."
They spoke freely enough of Neversleigh, of Lord
Arncourt, of everything they saw. Of every person
who came to the place they expressed their ideas and
thoughts with great freedom ; but, strange to say, they
never discussed Eric Chilvers.
Once only Belle, who did not understand the matter
so clearly as Reine, asked :
" Is Mr. Chilvers related to Lord Arncourt, Reine ? "
"Very distantly," she replied.
And then Belle continued :
" He is my ideal Englishman ; whenever I think of
the word 1 Saxon,' I shall think of him. I am sure he is
of Saxon descent."
There was a quiet gleam of amusement in Reine's
as she listened.
" He prides himself, Belle, upon that," she said. " If
there is any particular virtue in being an Anglo-Saxon,
Mr. Chilvers possesses it."
" He has such a frank face, and that fair, clustering
hair of his is like the pictures of the Saxons; I recog¬
nized the type of face the moment 1 saw him."
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
" He ought to feel flattered," said Reine ; "but men
are proverbially ungrateful."
The words were few, but something in the tone of
the voice struck Belle. She did not resume the subject,
although Reine often tried her.
CHAPTER XXV.
" i like words that are to the point."
Great preparations had been made at Neversleigh
for the reception of the ladies. By Lord Arncourt's di¬
rection, a suite of rooms was arranged expressly for
Reine. As his daughter he considered she ought to be
differently treated to the others, that more respect should
be paid to her.
" I must make some distinction," he said to himself ;
and for Reine's especial ease every luxury was provided.
Her rooms were on the same floor as those arranged for
Madame de St. Lance and her daughter ; but while
Reine's room opened on to a balcony full of blooming
flowers, those occupied by madame led by an iron stair¬
case to the terrace below. The young girls were de¬
lighted with their apartments. Reine stood at the door
of her magnificent chamber.
" This is just what I have longed for all mylife," she
said, "and I consider myself very fortunate that my
longings are gratified at last.
It was some few days before they were quite at home ;
there was so much to be arranged for them. A pretty
Parisienne was found for Reine, and established as her
maid. Madame preferred an English one. Lord Arn-
court would have them learn to ride, and suitable horses
must be found for them. Reine's eyes gleamed with
delight as she saw the beautiful habit of blue cloth, the
hats, the gloves, the riding-whip—everything was as
perfect as it could be.
" I think some good fairy must have, presided at my
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
birth," she said ; but Belle, remembering the lonely life
of her mother, sighed deeply.
After they had been some days at Neversleigh,
Lord Arncourt made all his arrangements, He asked
madame if she would honor him by remaining at the
hall until his daughter married. He urged her to do so.
" Reine was so beautiful," he said, " and so young he
did not like to take charge of her."
He offered her what in the poor lady's eyes seemed
a grand income.
" For your daughter," he said, " who has been like a
sister to mine, I must beg you to allow me to treat her
as though she were my own. Let her share every ad¬
vantage with Reine. You will do me a real kindness if
you consent to this."
It was not possible to refuse. Madame looked slightly
troubled as she said " Yes."
Then Lord Arncourt called Reine into his study.
He had not talked much to her ; he felt rather shy and
ill at ease before this beautiful, brilliant girl whom he
had so long neglected.
She looked at him with such proud, bright eyes.
She seemed at times fo be considering him, and he was
not comfortable under the inspection. Now, almost for
the first time, he sent for her to his study to talk to her
alone. He placed a chair for her, and sat down by her
side, wondering again, as he looked at her, why she had
none of her mother's fair beauty in her face. She
always reminded him of a diamond—she was so cold, so
hard, so brilliant.
"Reine," he said, with a smile, "do y<ju know any¬
thing of the value of money."
" I know the want of it, papa," she said abruptly.
" I am sorry to hear it ; but have you any notion of
its value? Do you know how to spend it, how far it
goes, what it will buy, or anything of that kind ? "
" I have had but little experience," she replied, "I
am quick, though, and can soon learn."
" Because I wish to do what I suppose every gentle
no
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
man does, and every young lady expects—make you an
allowance of money to spend."
" It will be welcome," said Reine. " I never had
much."
" Remember, I place no restriction upon you ; spend
what you like, and as you like—of course, without
waste or extravagance. I only want you to be happy.
I want to atone to you as far as I can for all the long
years during which I neglected you."
" I should have been very happy here," answered
Reine, looking grave; "and then it was my rightful
place, you know."
"You were happy with Madam de St Lance, were
you not ?" he inquired, anxiously.
" After a very quiet fashion. I am not complaining.
Madame was always very good to me. I cannot help
wishing that she had told me the truth about myself
and my true parentage."
" You would not have been happier," he said ; " your
life would have been one continual longing."
" It was worse than that," she replied ; " but we need
not discuss it. You wished to make some arrangement
with me. papa."
There was at times a certain lofty imperrousness
about her that made Lord Arncourt feel ill at ease in
her presence. He felt that she had a will strong as his
own—stronger, perhaps. He had a vague idea that
there was in her a depth of satire and scorn with which
he could not cope.
" I should like," he said, " to give you so much per an¬
num for youi; personal expenses—for your dress, jewels,
ornaments, or anything of that kind. You may send
for what you will, and send in your bills to me. I wish
you to have everything of the very best. You must
dress according to your position. Madame de St. Lance
will advise you."
" Her ideas would be too old-fashioned to suit me,"
interrupted Reine, and Lord Arncourt looked up in sui
prise.
Reine continued :
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
111
" She knew all that was requisite twenty years ago,
I have no doubt ; but I should be sorry to accept her
laws on dress now."
" Reine, my dear," said Lord Arncourt, "you have
a very trenchant method of expressing yourself."
" Have I ? I like words that are to the point. What
are you going to do with Belle, papa ? "
Then Lord Arncourt told her. He had some notion,
when she came in, of treating her like a child—of ad¬
vising her ; he found himself deferring to her, and con¬
sulting her as though she were a woman.
" So Belle is to remain here," she said. " I am very
glad. I am so used to having her about me, that I
should not like to miss her."
Not a very sentimental way of looking at it ; but that
was characteristic of Reine.
Then Lord Arncourt and his daughter sat for some
little time in silence. She was carelessly turning the
leaves of a scrap book which lay on the table.
"Was that all you wanted me for, papa? " she said,
at length.
" Yes, Reine ; but tell me, are you happy at Never-
sleigh ? Is there anything more that I can do for your
comfort?"
" If I should think of anything, papa, I will tell you.
I am very happy, If I want anything, I shall not be
afraid of asking for it."
" Reine," said Lord Arncourt, suddenly, as she
turned to leave the room, " do you like Eric Chilvers ? "
She turned aside quickly, but not before he had seen
the vivid blush on her face. It pleased him.
" I like him very well," she replied, " He is very
agreeable, except when he argues with me."
" I am pleased," said Lord Arncourt. " He will
probably spend a great deal of time here, and I should
not feel comfortable if you did not like him."
She was opening the door when Lord Arncourt
suddenly bethought himself.
" Reine," he said, " have you not one kiss to give
me ? "
112
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
She went back and raised her beautiful face to bis.
and touched him with her soft lips.
"I must kiss you, and thank you," she said, care¬
lessly. " You must not frown at the first milliner's bill
you see of mine."
" I promise that," he replied. " Reine, whatever you
order for yourself, order likewise for Belle."
She took a careful, business-like view of the situation.
" I will do so, with pleasure, if you wish, papa ; but
what is quite suitable for me would hardly be suitable
for Belle."
" I wish it to be so," said Lord Arncourt.
" Then I will see that your wishes are carried out,"
she said with a bright, careless smile. " I am going for
my riding lesson. Au rcvoir, papa."
She went away, leaving him full of wonder. Where
had she taken that cold, hard, bright nature from ?
" She is not in the least like poor Alice," he said to
himself. "Alice had the most gentle and tender heart
in all the world. Reine has not inherited one particle
of it. I am not so cold and hard as she is."
Then he went to the window to watch her mount the
spirited, mettlesome horse that she had insisted upon
having in place of a quieter one. His beautiful daughter
puzzled him.
" What would my beloved wife have thought of her ? "
And then, although he felt that he had done wrong,
it was some kind of relief to him that Lady Isora and
Reine had never met.
He watched her as she mounted ; he admired the
wild, free grace of every movement, the dignified, yet
half-careless ease, the perfect harmony.
" She does things," he said to himself, " that no one
else would do ; yet everything she does seems right and
suitable to her."
He watched intently to see if Eric Chilvers paid her
any lover-like attentions. They laughed and talked,
but for once in his life Lord Arncourt was puzzled.
He could not see any signs of love, yet they seemed
something more than friends.
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION. 1*3
As he stood there, a gentle, half-timid knock came
to the door.
" Come in," said Lord Arncourt; and then he looked
in surprise.
There, blushing and beautiful, stood Belle.
CHAPTER XXVI.
" has she a heart ? "
She went up to him, her sweet face crimson with
blushes, her dark eyes bright with tears. She held out
her little white hand, and her lips trembled as she spoke.
" Lord Arncourt," she said, " pray forgive me, if I
am intruding on you. I could not help coming to thank
you. Mamma has told me how good and kind you are
to me. and I am so grateful to you."
He took the little white hands held out to him, and
as he held them in his grasp, a strange thrill went over
him.
" My dear child," he said, " you need not thank me.
I am only too glad to be kind, as you call it, to Reine's
friend. You have been like a sister to her all your life,
Reine tells me."
" I love her very dearly, Lord Arncourt. You are
so generous, so good, that you make me presumptuous. I
am going to ask a favor."
" I am sure it will be granted," he said, with a kindly
smile. " What is it ? "
The crimson deepened on her face.
" Pray do not think me presumptuous," she said,
"but you tell me so often you like me for Reine's sake,
because I have been Reine's sister ; will you like me for
my own—just a little ? "
He felt the small hands tremble in his own.
" My dearest child," he said, inexpressibly touched,
U4
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
" I do like you very much ' for your own sake,' as you
call it, and I hope you will always be Reine's sister."
" You have been so good, so kind to me," she said,
" The tears stood in mamma's eyes when she told me of
all your generosity to us. How am I to thank you."
" By being a true friend to my daughter. She is
beautiful, brilliant, and high-spirited, but she lacks your
quietness ; she wants more stability, calmer, clearer judg
ment. I feel that the time will come for her when she
will need a friend ; will you be that friend ? "
She raised her eyes to his face, and there was in them a
depth of purpose, a steadiness, a reliance, that struck
him forcibly.
" I promise you," she said, " I will.''
And the time came when both remembered the
words and she kept her faith.
" I must not intrude on you," continued the young
girl, in her clear voice ; " but I could not help coming.
My heart was quite full of gratitude ; some of it must
be told in words."
Long after she had left him he sat thinking of her.
" It seems ungrateful to say so," he thought, "but
I cannot help wishing Reine "were more like her. She
is so gentle, so sweet, so considerate ; she is so tender
of heart, pure of soul; she is one of those women who
are born to console and to comfort, to elevate and refine.
Happy the man who has such a daughter! happy the
man who has such a wife ! I wish that Reine were
more like her. Has she any heart, that beautiful
daughter of mine ? "
He put her to the test the following day. He asked
her to take a ride with him.
" I will go," she replied, with a smile, " if you will
let me gallop as quickly as I like."
" That you shall do," he said.
Soon afterward they rode away together, Reine, in
her heart, half-vexed at being deprived of Eric's society.
" I am going to take you, Reine, to a place that
should be a shrine for you," said Lord Arncourt, as they
rode through the beautiful Neversleigh Wood.
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
JIS
" I should be a sorry pilgrim, papa ; or, if I were one
at all, the peas in my shoes must be well boiled."
She laughed carelessly. Both words and laugh jarred
upon Lord Arncourt's sensitive nerves.
" It should be a shrine to you, Reine," he said, " if
not to any one one else in the world. It is your mother's
old home—the place where I saw her first."
A petulant, impatient expression came over the
beautiful face.
" Now I shall have to do so much sentiment," she
thought; "and I cannot, I am sure. It is not in my
line."
" Has she a heart ? " He asked himself the question
over and over again, as they stood before the pretty
schoolhouse and garden.
Lord Arncourt had dismounted, and, with the per¬
mission of the residents, had taken his daughter through
the house into the garden. The apple-tree was still
standing, though in place of the pink and white blossoms
hung beautiful ripe fruit.
He pointed to it.
"You see that, Reine. Underneath it I saw your
mother first, with the sunshine on her hair."
Reine looked carelessly.
" It is very interesting," she said, not really knowing
what to say ; desirous of pleasing him, yet with a horror
of all sentiment.
"Child," he said, hastily, " it is of your mother you
speak ; ' interesting ' is hardly the word."
But she had already turned away ; she was looking
at the little house.
" Did my mother really live here?" she asked, and
he detected something like contempt in her tone.
" Yes, she lived here, fair as the blooming flowers,
pure as the lilies—sweet, ah ! sweeter than words of mine
can tell."
" Her sweetness did not hold you captive, papa," she
replied, curtly. " It is a very small place ; she could not
have been very happy here. I shall find it difficult to
make a shrine of a schoolhouse."
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
He bit his lips, and inwardly vowed never again
while he lived to talk sentimentality to his daughter.
He repressed his impatience, saying that if she had
been trained in a home of her own it would have been
different.
"You never ask me about your mother, Reine.
Have you no curiosity about her? "
"No papa. I do not remember her; besides, it
always seems to me a painful story. The sooner it is
forgotten the better."
Had she any heart ? He repressed his impatience
still. He showed her her mother's favorite trees and
flowers.
" Would you like to gather some of those roses ?"
he asked. " I helped your mother to plant them."
She sat down and plucked one—a dark, glowing rose,
fragrant and sweet. She fastened it carelessly in the
bodice of her habit—so carelessly that when she re¬
mounted her horse he saw that it had fallen, and she
did not even remember it. They sat down for a few
minutes on a rustic wooden bench that stood outside
the porch, Lord Arncourt recalling, with sorrow of
heart, the hours he had spent in that sunny, bright gar¬
den.
" Reine," he said, suddenly, " you are not in dis¬
position at all like your mother. Could you ever love
any one very much ? "
" I do not know, papa. I do not love many people
I only care for a few. In the way you mean, love would
be a fire with me—not a sentiment."
How vividly the words came back to him afterward,
when her love had indeed proved a devastating fire.
She seemed to forget his question, and looked up at
the humble little house.
" Papa," she asked, abruptly, " was my mother a
lady ? "
" What do you mean, Reine ? "
"Was she well-bred and elegant like madame? I
know she was not rich; but was she educated and re
fined ? "
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
n7
" I loved her," he replied, briefly. " That must an¬
swer all."
Then Reine arose, and gathered the fold of her
habit around her.
" Shall we go now, papa ? The horses will be tired.
I am afraid you do not find me a congenial companion
for a sentimental expedition."
Lord Arncourt made no reply; he opened the gate
for her. She passed, and without one glance, one lin¬
gering look, went on with a brightening face.
" Has she a heart ? " Once more the question was
asked.
The answer was : " No."
She had fire, animation, genius of a kind ; but a
heart—no. And her father would not own, even to
himself, how great was his disappointment.
While Reine, as she rode by him, resolved that she
would not ride out with Lord Arncourt again.
" Belle would just suit him," she said ; "she has all
those sentimental ideas. As a companion, I most
decidedly prefer Eric Chilvers."
The next time Lord Arncourt asked her to ride with
him she excused herself, and it was well that he did not
know the reason why.
CHAPTER XXVII.
"why should i never touch any heart."
From that hour Lord Arncourt seemed to take an¬
other view of his daughter's character. He never again
appealed to her affection. She had no heart; the ten¬
derness and sweetness that form part of woman's char¬
acter seemed foreign to her, but he was proud of her.
Her great beauty pleased him; he liked to hear her
admired. His vanity and his ambition alike were grati-
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
fied by the homage paid to her. She was brilliant and
gifted. He enjoyed listening to her conversation. Her
satire was polished, keen, and occasionally bitter. She
had the talent of painting a character in an epigram ;
a few words from her would say as much as a volume
from another.
" You are more French than English in character,"
her father said to her one day. "I could imagine when
vou are speaking that I was listening to one of the grand
French women of the olden empire, who ruled half the
world with satire, and the other half with smiles.
Reine laughed.
" I am quite English in one respect," she said ; " and
that is, my keen appreciation of the comforts of life."
Lord Arncourt owned to himself that he had done
a wise deed in sending for his daughter. His house was
no longer the same ; it was presided over by a highbred
and elegant woman, who was fond of society, who had
a talent for it ; who delighted in seeing the grand old
mansion filled with visitors ; who was never so well
pleased as when she was arranging for some great enter¬
tainment. Madame was essentially a woman of the
world.
The two young girls seemed to have brought with them
an atmosphere of youth and gayety. The sight of fair
faces, the sound of fresh, sweet voices, were pleasant af¬
ter the deep gloom that had so long overshadowed Never-
sleigh.
Then, Lord Arncourt seemed as though he could
not do enough to indulge his beautiful daughter. No
day passed without some amusement.* He gave grand
dinner parties, to which the elite of the country were in¬
vited ; he gave grand balls, where all youth and beauty
congregated. Fetes, archery meetings, croquet parties
were held in the grounds ; riding parties were formed to
visit the ruins of the neighborhood ; picnics were ar¬
ranged, where the young people might enjoy themselves
at their ease. Then he was continually surprising Belle
and Reine by the magnificence of his presents. Every
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
119
thing that young girl's heart could desire was theirs in
abundance.
Madame was very anxious that they should go to
London for the season, and be presented. She con¬
stantly urged this upon Lord Arncourt; he always put
it off.
" I have only just recovered my daughter," he said.
" Let me keep her with me at least for a time. If I let
her go to London, I am sure to lose her."
His real motive was the strong desire he had to see
Eric and Reine lovers. He thought that if they remained
together, they must most assuredly fall in love with
each other. If Reine went to London she would soon
have a hundred lovers at her feet. He would rather she
married Eric than a royal duke even. No doubt that
when she once made her debut in the great world she
would have lovers higher in rank and position then Eric
Chilvers; but her marriage with him would please her
father best. He did not want her to be thrown much into
the society of eligible men until she was betrothed to Eric.
Many people understood it. Madame, usually so
quick at penetration, was the last to perceive it.
"Lord Arncourt would like his daughter to marry
his heir," was a frequent remark. Mothers warned their
sons it was useless to fall in love there. Men told each
other Lord Arncourt had other views for his daughter.
Many asked themselves—would my lord's wish be ac¬
complished ? It was impossible to tell. Eric Chilvers
seemed to have a very kindly liking for his beautiful
kinswoman. He laughed with her, talked to her, enjoyed
her satire, admired her constant animation, for it was im¬
possible to feel dull where Reine was ; but it was uncer¬
tain whether he loved her Many thought that he pre¬
ferred the pure and gentle girl whose face was like a sun¬
beam, whose voice was music. He talked less to her, but
there was quite another expression on Eric's face when he
addressed Belle—one of reverence and deepest respect;
there was less familiarity, less laughter. With Reine
he enjoyed a jest; with Belle he enjoyed a noble senti¬
ment. He turned to the one for sympathy in all his
120
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
amusement; to the other in all his higher and noblei
pursuits.
Lord Arncourt could not decide in his own mind
whether Eric loved Reine; but he began to think his
daughter loved Eric.
She had said once, in speaking of herself, that with
her love would be a fire, not a sentiment. Now she was
to know how true her words were, for Reine—the proud,
beautiful Reine—had learned to love the heir of Never-
sleigh with all the force and passion of which she was
capable. With such ill-regulated natures as hers—cold,
hard, brilliant, polished, yet capable of the highest de¬
gree of passion—love knows no moderation, no bounds,
no medium. Loving Eric, she must either live or die
for him. She had no thought fcr any one else. Her ideas,
her hopes, all began and ended with him. It was the
resistless torrent that destroys all obstacles, that brooks
no opposition, that will not be stayed, that dashes im¬
petuously on its way, reaching its limit, let the cost be
what it might—a fire that destroyed all that opposed its
progress—a fire that would consume and burn. Reine
had rightly named it. From the first moment that his
proud, handsome head was bent before her, Reine had
loved him. It was not a good love. It was not found¬
ed on esteem for what were really his good qualities,
his noble principles. His handsome face, the winning
grace and chivalry of his manner, had first aroused it.
She loved him for himself, and not for any qualities that
distinguished him.
At first, and for some long time, she was toO proud
to own her love, even to herself. She resolutely drove
from her mind all thoughts of it ; she would not ac¬
knowledge it. Pride was a master passion with her, and
pride forbade her to own to herself that she loved a man
who had said nothing yet of loving her.
It conquered her at last ; she yielded to it. It was
like the intoxication of rare wine, of sweet, subtle per¬
fume. She laid down her pride and coldness at his feet;
she confessed to herself that she loved him ; and she
gloried in her love, she was proud of it. Then she
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
121
gave up her whole heart and soul to the one task of win¬
ning him.
It was not to be done so that he could perceive it
She vowed to herself that she would win him—that she
would gain from him love such as she gave him ; and it
remained to be seen whether, with all her beauty, her,
skill, her genius, she could accomplish her ends.
" There could be no love," so Reine thought, " where
there was such laughing, genial friendship as existed
between herself and Eric. She must destroy that, then
begin again on a new foundation. It would not be diffi¬
cult. She had read in the work of some clever writer
that, given the opportunity, any woman could marry
the man she liked. Now it remained for her to see if
that were true."
She considered herself a good judge of character,
but she was puzzled ; she could not tell whether Eric
liked her or not. She tried to test him.
He asked her one evening to sing for him.
" You have such a glorious voice, Reine," he said ;
" do sing for me. Not one of those French chansons,
that have no music in them—not one of the German
songs, that send me to sleep—but an old English
ballad."
She looked up at him with a bright smile.
" A ballad ? Yes ; I like ballads, Eric. Shall it be
one of martial glory—one that will touch your soul as
with the music of a mighty clarion—or one that will
touch your heart, and bid some sweet fountain flow ? "
He laughed.
" I do not think touching hearts is much in your
line, Reine," he said.
She folded her hands with the air of one determined
to argue the question.
" Why do you say that, Eric ? Now do not look
satirically at me ; I am not in the humor for satire.
Why do you say touching one's heart is not much in
my line ?"
His eyes lingered on her face v/ithan expression that
annoyed her.
122
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
" Why do you say it ?" she repeated. I insist upon
your telling me."
Eric laughed aloud.
" You ought to have been an empress, Reine, you
are so imperious. You would clasp those pretty white
hands of yours and say, ' Take away that slave and be¬
head him !' "
" My hands are not pretty," interrupted Reine,
angrily.
'• They are beautiful, then. Does that please you
better? They are white and soft, with the least tinge
of pink, and each blue vein is clearly marked. I kiss
your beautiful hands, Reine, after the fashion of a
French chevalier."
" You are always laughing at the French, Eric. I
am English ; it does not annoy me. Will you give me
a plain answer to a very plain question ? Why do you
say that of me ? Why should I never touch any heart ? "
" Belle!" cried Eric, "come to my assistance. It
is with much difficulty that I am endeavoring to defend
myself."
CHAPTER XXVIII.
" lovers' quarrels are but the renewal of love."
Belle crossed the room and came up to Eric with a
smile.
"• I have involved myself in a terrible dilemma,
Belle," said Eric ; " I have told Reine a certain truth,
and she does not like it."
" I am afraid that few people ever do like the truth,"
said Belle. " Tell me what it was."
Eric repeated the words.
" I maintain," he continued, " that they are perfectly
correct. Reine has no talent for sentiment—has she,
Belle?"
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
I23
The gentle girl looked at her brilliant, beautiful
sister.
" I can hardly tell," she replied. " Reine does not
indulge in sentiment in small things ; but I have no
doubt that if she did entertain any idea of the kind, it
would be a strong one."
" Then I confess myself conquered," laughed Eric.
" The verdict is against me ; Reine, I beg your pardon.
I will own that you can touch any one's heart when you
will. Now, will you sing for me?"
A pleased softened expression came over her face,-
her dark eyes were eloquence itself.
" I will sing anything you like, now that you have
done me justice. You must come and turn over my
leaves—no, not that—I sing from memory ; but you
must stand by me."
" I am flattered beyond description," said Eric.
She went across the room, her white evening dress
sweeping the rich crimson carpet. She sat down to the
piano, and Eric took his station by her side.
" Nearer," she said, " that I may look at your face
for inspiration while I sing."
fie could not help admiring the picture—the white
hands that gleamed on the ivory keys, the beautiful
face, the dark, bright eyes, so eloquent with passion,
the lips so sweet and eloquent with song, the graceful
neck, the perfect symmetry of the white shoulders—his
eyes had never rested on a fairer face, yet his heart did
not soften with anything like love.
Then her voice arose, so sweet and clear, low, ring¬
ing, and full of music ; such a voice as the ancients of
old gave to the sirens; And Eric listened, charmed
even against his will. She sang one quaint ballad after
another until his heart was strangely touched, and the
tears stood in his eyes. She sang of love that never
died of troth that was never broken, of faith that had
never faltered ; she sang until the depths of his heart
were touched, and fancy had taken him to another world.
Then she ceased, and the spell was broken; it was
124
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
as though some celestial harmony had suddenly ceased.
She turned to Eric with a smile.
" You have conquered, Reine. I shall, never doubt
yonr power of touching hearts again. How am I to
thank you ! "
" I am more than repaid if I have given you pleas¬
ure," she replied.
And she looked so lovely with that tremulous smile
on her lip's, that Eric's gaze lingered on her. Then he
caught a*glance from Belle ; there was no reproach in
it; only something of pained wonder and surprise—a
glance that drew him quickly from Reine's side; for
which the beautiful, willful girl could have slain her
gentle rival.
" I have made him listen to me," she said; "I have
pleased him ; I do not think any woman's voice ever
made his heart beat before mine did ; and his eyes
looked kindly at me. Shall I win him ? If there be
magic in beauty and power in kindness, I will."
Lord Arncourt gave a grand ball in honor of a cele¬
brated statesman, who was visiting with his wife and
children in the neighborhood ; he said to Madame de
St. Lance :
" I wish you, madame, personally, if you will, to
attend to my daughter's toilet. Lady Clements is a
great favorite at court, and I should like Reine to make
a most favorable impression on her. Let no expense
or trouble be spared to make both the girls as beautiful
as possible."
Great preparations were made for the ball ; the
state rooms were thrown open ; Lord Arncourt sent to
London for music ; there was an endless profusion of
flowers and decorations of all kinds.
" Belle," said Eric, the day before the one appointed
for the ball, "you will give me the first dance, will you
not ? "
The girl's fair face flushed.
" That will be the only enjoyable part of the evening
to me," he continued. " I do not care for balls ; I am
not fond of dancing, but I shall enjoy that."
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
She did not like to sav : " So shall I," but he read
the words in the clear, frank eyes.
That same evening he was standing with Reine on
the terrace, when Lord Arncount joined them.
" Eric," he said, " I have been wishing to see you.
You must open the ball with Reine, remember."
" Why, papa ? " she asked.
" My dear child, it is a matter of etiquette, not in¬
clination ; although in this case they will probably go
together. You, as my daughter, as mistress of the
house ; Eric, as my heir ; it could not be. otherwise."
" Unfortunately," said Eric, carelessly, " I am en¬
gaged. I asked the favor of a young lady's hand for
that dance, and I must keep my engagement."
Reine's dark eyes flashed one glance at him, then
drooped sadly. Lord Arncourt looked slightly an¬
noyed; he wished the whole neighborhood to understand
that the two were lovers; nothing would give a better
idea of this than the fact of their opening the ball
together.
"You must oblige me in this instance, Eric," he
said ; " etiquette demands it j I wish it; and I am quite
sure that you wilt not refuse. Tell the young lady,
whoever she may be, and she will understand."
" If you really make a point of it, Lord Arncourt, I
will do as you wish, that is," continued Eric, " with your
daughter's permission."
"My permission does not seem to be necessary,"
said Reine, proudly.
Her father walked away, satisfied with Eric's pro¬
mise, thinking most probably that they would come to
a better understanding if they were left alone. Then
Reine turned haughtily to him.
" I would rather never dance again—I would rather
never go near a ball while I live, than that you should
be compelled to dance with me against your will."
Despite the hauteur of her manner, and the pride on
her face, Eric saw tears in her eyes, and that sight tor¬
mented him. He was naturally gentle of heart.
" My dear Reine, how mistaken you are. I never
126
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
said or thought dancing with you against my will. How
can you say such a thing to me ? I merely said that I
had asked some one else for that same dance. Suppose
that Lord Clements had asked you, and you, in conse¬
quence, refused me, that would not mean that you did
not care to dance with me. Ladies do not understand
logic."
" We understand something much better," replied
Reine. " You must have been in a great hurry to have
engaged any one."
She turned away, but Eric followed her. The hurt
tone of her voice touched him.
" Reine," he said, " you are angry with me, I am
sure."
" I do not see that it can matter to you if I am," she
replied.
He went to the flower-garden and gathered a most
beautiful blush rose; it was a flower perfect in shape
and in color, beautiful, too, in its rich fragrance.
" Will you accept this peace-offering ? " he asked.
She turned round, and her dark eyes looked steadily
at him.
"No," she replied. "Take it "to the young lady
whom you were so anxious to dance with."
"I knew you were angry, Reine, and it is very un¬
just of you."
Yet as he spoke his face flushed. It looked very
much like jealousy, this strange conduct of Reine's, and
yet how absurd : she could not possibly be jealous of
him—they were friends, not lovers.
Then Reine's mood changed. She raised her face
to his, and its marvelous beauty was deepened by a radi¬
ant smile.
" Do you want to make friends with me ?" she
asked.
The beauty of that smile almost startled him.
"Yes," he replied ; "indeed I do."
" Then I will forgive you on one condition—that you
tell me the name of the young lady you asked to dance
with you. Will you do that, Eric ? "
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
127
" Why do you wish to know ?" he asiced.
"That I may hate her," she thought; but shq said
nothing of the kind.
"Simply from curiosity, Eric ; that is all."
Some prudential instinct caused him to hesitate.
There was something in it he could not understand.
■ " I cannot tell you that, Reine ; seriously speaking, I
do not think it honorable."
" I thank you for thinking me capable of asking you
anything it would not be honorable to tell."
She swept away with the dignity of an insulted queen,
leaving Eric with the rose in his hand.
" Reine ! " he cried ; but Reine never moved her head.
She was deaf to his voice. She did not look round even
as she quitted the terrace.
Eric was half-piqued, half-amused.
" I will make her accept this rose," he said to himself.
" She is very proud, but she shall not have it all her own
way."
They did not meet again until dinner-time; then
Reine was looking unusually beautiful. She wore a low
dress of rich velvet, with point lace. Eric spoke to her
two or three times. She pretended not to hear him.
" Reine," said Lord Arncourt, at length, " Eric is
speaking to you. Do you not hear him ?"
She looked at her father with the most charming
smile.
"We are not friends," she said- " I am not going to
speak to him again until he tells me something I wanted
to know."
Lord Arncourt smiled to himself, thinking :
" Lovers' quarrels are but the renewal of love."
128
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
CHAPTER XXIX.
"DO NOT LOVE HIM."
Madame de St. Lance looked up as Reine spoke;
there was something in the sound of the girl's voice that
attracted her attention. Then, for the first time, it struck
her that Reine was like the handsome young heir.
Madame looked long and anxiously at the girl ; the idea,
seemingly, was not quite pleasant to her.
" I must talk to Reine," she said to herself. " My
other idea is correct, I am sure."
Throughout dinner Reine never once addressed Eric,
or heard what he said. He laughed at first, then the
better nature in him triumphed. He began to think that
he must have seriously offended her ; after all. it could
not have been agreeable to her, the daughter of the house.
He reproached himself, and. after the fashion of all men
when they are properly treated, began to think that he
was in fault. He bore his punishment patiently ; Reine
seemed most serenely unconscious of his existence. At
last he went up to her.
" I cannot bear it any longer," he said. " Reine, we
must be friends ; you have punished me sufficiently."
'' Will you tell me who it was ? " she asked, suddenly.
" Anything but that, Reine. You would not even
care to be friends again if you thought I did anything a
man should not do."
She made a desperate effort to control herself.
" You are right," she replied frankly, " and I am
wrong. I will not ask you to tell me, although, woman¬
like. I should dearly love to know."
Then he went and brought the rose he had gathered.
" You will take this from me now," he said.
And Reine, holding out her white hand, took it. She
placed it in the bodice of her dress.
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
129
" I shall fancy all the evening," she said, " that you
are whispering sweet messages to me."
Eric thought of those words. He could not quite
understand it; he was not quite vain enough to think
that every girl was in love with him who showed him an
especial regard, but he did not understand Reine ; she
treated him quite differently to every one else. Her face
took quite another expression when she looked at him,
her voice quite another tone.
His opinions influenced her ; if he admired a color,
she adopted it; if he praised a dress, she wore it. Proud
though she was, she deferred to his judgment, his tastes,
his ideas, and she did not conceal it.
For Reine kept her word. By dint of flirting, quarrel¬
ing, arguing, disputing, by one means or another, she
contrived to keep herself in his thoughts. She constantly
asked him to execute little commissions for her, so that
she managed to keep some thought of her always before
his mind. She never allowed him to forget her; she
identified herself with every interest of his.
He could not understand it ; if he had been vainer
he would have known at once the cause of all her
piquant, charming ways and manners,
All that evening she was irresistible. He looked at
her beautiful face, at the flower she seemed to cherish
for his sake,and he could not help owning to himself that
she was most bewitching when she chose ; that no one
was m.ore amiable, when it pleased her, than Reine Arn-
court.
That same evening, before they parted for the night
Madame de St. Lance went to the young girl.
" Reine," she said, " if you are not tired I want you
to walk on the terrace with me."
A promenade with madame offered no temptation to
Reine, especially as Eric was in the drawing-room.
She looked round half-impatiently.
" I do not care for walking to-night," she said.
But madame was determined she should go. With
her quick instinct she divined the cause of that refusal.
" I would not ask you," she said, " if you were en-
130
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
gaged here. Belle is reading, Lord Arncourt and Mr.
Chilvers talking; you are quite disengaged, come with
me."
Reine gave one glance at Eric. True, he was talk¬
ing, and that so busily he did not even seem aware of
her presence.
" It is too much trouble to argue the matter," she
said, carelessly. " I will go if you wish it."
But madame had seen the one quick glance, and
knew all about it. They went out on to the terrace,
where the beautiful moon made light and shadow.
" We used to have long conversations," said madame ;
" now there seems no time for a word."
" It is beautiful life," replied Reine, quickly-—" just
the life I always longed for,"
" Then you are quite happy ? " asked madame, and
something in her voice made Reine wonder.
" Certainly I am. How could I be anything else ? "
"I am glad to hear it, Reine. You must remember
that you have been to me as my own child for many
years-; I want to talk to you as though you were' my
own child still."
" You are not going to lecture me ?" said the girl,
laughingly.
" No, my dear ; I am only about to warn you. Reine,
tell me honestly, do you like Eric Chilvers ?"
The face flushed crimson, then grew deadly pale.
She hesitated for a few minutes in a manner quite un¬
like herself.
" Like him ! " she repeated ; " most certainly I do."
" I mean a little more than that, child. Years ago
I learned to read human hearts and human faces—I
have read yours, and I wish to warn you. You like him ;
do not learn to do more ; do not love him, Reine."
" Am I likely to give my love before it is asked ? "
cried Reine.
" My dear, you come of a race whose descendants
do not always stop to think."
" I have heard no wrong of the Arncourts, madame."
she said.
[A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
Then she stopped abruptly, for madame's eyes were
fixed upon her in a vague, bewildered manner.
" I repeat it," she said, proudly ; " I have heard no
wrong of the Arncourts."
Madame seemed to recover herself.
" Neither have I, Reine ; but have patience and
listen to my warnings. Do not learn to love Eric
Chilvers, for, unless lam mistaken, he cares for you as a
friend, as the daughter of the house, as a pleasant com¬
panion, but nothing more."
They walked on in silence for some minutes, then
madame said ;
" You have heard me, Reine; will you promise to
be guided by my advice ?"
" I have heard you, madame, and it is quite suffi¬
cient. I decline to give my promise. I beg that you
will never annoy me again by mentioning the same
subject."
Then madame knew by the tone of her voice that it
would be useless to speak any more.
" Will you come in now, Reine ?" she asked, when
they had walked up and down in silence a few minutes
longer.
" Not just yet," she replied ; " the night is fine, I
will stay a little longer."
There was a tremor in her voice, and madame
wisely left her to herself. She re-entered the house.
Reine went up to the stone parapet and stood leaning
over it.
Lord Arncourt looked up when madame came in
alone.
" Where is Reine ? " he asked
" The night is so beautiful," said madame, diplo¬
matically, " she preferred remaining out a short time."
After a few minutes had elapsed, Lord Arncourt
thought he would do a very clever thing.
" Eric," he said, in a low voice, " will you go and tell
Reine I think it is time she came in ? "
He went. At first he could see no one, then the
glimmer of the moonlight fell upon a velvet dress; he
132
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
saw a fair head bent so as to touch the cold, white
stone. He went up to her. She did not hear him.
" Reine," he said, gently.
She raised her head quickly, and then, to his dis¬
tress, he saw the beautiful face wet with tears.
" Reine, what troubles you ? " he asked.
" Nothing," she replied. " I think the moonlight
has made me sad ; it has made me think of my beauti¬
ful France."
CHAPTER XXX.
" woe to anything that opposes my love ! "
The night of the ball, and Neversleigh looks as it
had not looked since the duke's daughter reigned there.
It is full of life, of gayety, of merriment ; the sound of
beautiful music falls on the ear ; the air is warm and
fragrant with the breath of flowers ; lovely faces, shin¬
ing jewels, gleaming fountains—all combine to make
the old abbey like Fairyland.
The queen of that gorgeous throng is undoubtedly
Reine, Lord' Arncourt's daughter. Her dress is of
violet and gold, with its full folds and sweeping train ;
it accords well with her regal style of beauty. Lord
Arncourt has presented her with a magnificent set of
diamonds. They glitter on the graceful arched neck,
on the white breast, in the coils of dark hair, and on
the rounded arm. They add a sheen and luster to her
beauty ; they seem to draw all the light to themselves
She had never looked more beautiful than on this night,
perhaps the happiest of her life. The quarrel with Eric
has been quite made up ; in fact, he has seemed kinder
than ever to her. He had not given her credit for so
much tenderness of heart, for so sensitive a disposition.
He reproached himself for having misjudged her, and
believing that he had done her an injustice, he tried to
atone for it.
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATTON.
'33
This she misunderstood when she detected the
unusual gentleness of his voice.
" He is beginning to love me," she thought. " I
shall win him yet."
On this evening of the ball she was in the highest
possible spirits ; she was dizzy with happiness and suc¬
cess. She was conscious of her own beauty, of her ex¬
ceeding loveliness. She was the only daughter of this
rich man, whose wealth seemed boundless. She was
not his heiress, but the chances were a hundred to one
that she would marry the heir, and share this grand in¬
heritance.
Better than all this was the fact that the man she
loved so dearly was beginning to care for her. He had
spoken so gently and so kindly to her. The laughing,
teasing manner in which he usually addressed her was
changed to one of half-tender deference. He would
love her in time, and that one thought filled her with
unutterable happiness. Wealth, rank, position, were
all well in their way, were all to be envied, but they were
as nothing compared to love. She smiled to herself as
she thought how dearly she loved him.
" I, who laughed at love and lovers—I, who thought
there was nothing on earth desirable but money—I told
the truth when I said love would be a fire with me. Woe
to anything that opposes it! "
The gorgeous company had all assembled ; the
rooms were full ; the first sound of the music had an¬
nounced that dancing was about to begin ; the lights,
flowers, and jewels, the rich dresses and beautiful faces
made a tableau never to be forgotten by those who saw
it. Eric went to Reine to claim her hand. She looked
up at him without one word.
" Do you see what flowers I have chosen ? " she
said, showing him a bouquet of beautiful blush roses.
He smiled ; he was more touched than he cared to
own by her evident liking. He did not suspect that it
was more.
" I am afraid the sight of them will cause you to
remember our quarrel," he said.
134
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
" It will rather teach me never to quarrel again,"
she replied.
Many were the significant glances cast upon them.
"That will be a match," said one to another ; "and
it seems both fitting and right that Lord Arncourt's
daughter should marry his heir."
Lord Arncourt himself watched them with delight.
" They are a noble pair," he thought; " Eric so
grand and stately, Reine so brilliant and beautiful."
As he stood there looking at them, Madame de St.
Lance came up to him. There was a troubled look on
her face.
"I must congratulate you, my lord," she said, "on ■
the beauty of your daughter; how happy she seems."
There was something significant in madame's voice,
that caused Lord Arncourt to look at her.
" She is happy," he said ; " she is always happy with
Eric. Do you not think so, madame ? "
" I do not know ; I cannot tell; but if it should be
so, I hope he feels happy with her ; it would not do for
the happiness to be all on one side."
" There can be no fear of that, madame, where
Reine is concerned ; there can be no man living who
would not be proud even of a smile from her."
" If he did not love some one else," interrupted
madame, quickly.
" And that Eric does not; he is heart-whole and
fancy-free, I believe, but for Reine."
" I hope it may be so. Is it your wish, Lord Arn¬
court—would such a marriage please you ? "
"It would delight me more than anything else in the
world," he replied ; " and if you can do anything to for¬
ward it, you will win my everlasting gratitude."
But madame turned away with a sigh ; she evidently
felt that all was not so sure as he imagined.
"Trouble will come of this," she said to herself.
" Reine is not to be opposed, and Eric has a strong will
of his own. Trouble will come of it."
Even madame's worst fears gave her no hint as to
how dark and terrible that trouble would be. Strong
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
13S
as she was, accustomed to endure she would have died-
of the horror such knowledge would have brought her.
The first dance was over, and Reine, leaning on
Eric's arm, walked slowly down the drawing-room.
Admiring glances followed her.
" How beautiful she is," said one to another ; " how
bright and graceful! "
But neither the sheen of the gold on her dress, nor
the glitter of her costly jewels, could compare with the
radiance of her face and the light in her proud, dark
eyes.
She was supremely happy ; she saw how great was
the admiration bestowed upon her; she saw, too, the
significant glances, and she knew that most of the people
there would think she was betrothed to Eric.
" It is not true yet," she said, " but it shall be soon."
" Where is Belle ? " asked Eric. " I do not see her."
They looked among the glittering throng, but the
sweet face was not to be seen. Just then madame
passed them, leaning on Lord Clement's arm.
" Have you seen Belle ? " asked Eric.
" No ; I have not."
And Reine wondered at the coldness of her tone.
" You seem very anxious over her," laughed Reine.
"There is no need for anxiety ; she is sure to be enjoy¬
ing herself."
But Eric thought different. He had seen the shade
of sadness, when he told her of Lord Arncourt's desire
that he should open the ball with Reine, yet she had
most gracefully and gently released him from his
promise.
" Lord Arncourt is quite right," Belle had said ; " it
could not be otherwise ; we had forgotten that."
"And you will not mind it, Belle; if you do, if it
brings ever so slight a shadow to that sweet face, I shall
refuse, no matter what it costs me."
Then she had looked up at him with a smile.
"There is no shadow on my face," she said ; "and,
Eric, you must do as Lord Arncourt says."
But the shadow was there, he felt sure of it; and
136
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
Eric Chilvers loved Belle enough to have risked even
his heirship for her sake. It had grown upon him day
by day, this great love, until it engrossed his whole
thoughts ; he had but one idea from morning until night,
and that was Belle.
He loved her with all the force of his soul, with all
the strength of his manhood. He loved her better than
his life and everything in it. He loved her with the one
great love it is given to each one once in life to know
—but the love that is so seldom successful.
It had grown upon him almost unknown to himself.
From the first moment he saw her sweet face he loved
it with a wonderful love. He was not vain, but it cer¬
tainly seemed to him that Belle, shyly, timidly, gave him
some degree of liking in return.
She was not brilliant like Reine, but there was a
certain high-bred, gentle elegance about her, that seemed
to Eric far more charming than Reine's brilliant beauty.
It was not long before he said to himself that the whole
happiness of his life depended on her ; that he would win
her if she was to be won ; that he would rather be blessed
with the treasure of her love than reign over a kingdom.
He had not told her so as yet—so sweet, so shy, so
gentle. She was so serenely happy that he feared to
disturb her.
He was not vain, but yet he could not help thinking
that Belle cared for him. She showed it in a thousand
ways ; her face flushed, and her lips trembled when he
entered a room where she was. She avoided him with
a coy, pretty avoidance ; yet when forced to be with
him, she seemed happy in his society, as a bird among
the trees.
It was so different from the manner in which Reine
showed her liking—it was no wonder that he noticed it.
Of one thing he was resolved, and that was—he
would make Belle his wife. He thought her graceful
loveliness far more lovable than the brilliant beauty of
Reine.
So, loving her as he did, better than anything else
on earth, it was no wonder that on the evening of th«
ball, he asked continually, " Where is Belle ? "
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
*37
CHAPTER XXXI.
" i love you, eric."
Eric saw her at length. She was talking to Lady
Clements ; but to his fancy it seemed that the dear face
was still somewhat overshadowed. Belle looked—as
some people thought—even more beautiful than her
brilliant rival. Her dress of white silk was trimmed
with crimson flowers, one deep crimson rose lay in the
waving masses of dark hair, one nestled in the white
breast. She had no diamonds, but Lord Arncourt had
presented her with a set of pearls, and they seemed to
suit her graceful style even better than diamonds would
have done.
Eric hastened to join her, but Lord Arncourt inter¬
rupted him. He wanted to ask something about a
guest who had been invited, but who was not present.
It was many minutes before Eric could free himself ;
then he looked round, but Lady Clements was alone.
Belle had disappeared again. The music for the second
dance began, and she had promised it to him.
" I must look for her," he thought. How strange
that she should not be waiting for me.
He would not have considered it strange had he
known that Belle's heart was heavy with a new pain.
She had overheard so many of the remarks made about
Reine and Eric. She had heard people say how well
suited they were to each other; she had heard others
whisper that Lord Arncourt's daughter was sure to
marry his heir, and, although she did not quite know
why, the words had smitten her with a fresh and terrible
pain. Yet, she asked herself, why should it be so ?—-
what seemed more feasible than that Lord Arncourt's
daughter should marry his heir ?—how suitable such a
marriage would be. Why should she feel this strange
pain ?
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
Yet iL was there, heavy at her heart, bringing warm
tears to her eyes. She stole from the brilliant throng ;
she passed through the conservatory out into the grounds,
where she could try and make out what was the matter
with herself, and why the idea of a marriage between
Reine and Eric should give her such pain.
There was a pretty little grotto at one end of the
terrace. Lord Arncourt had given orders that it should
be illuminated. The soft gleaming of the lamps attracted
her attention. She went and took a seat there.
There came to her the distant sound of music, and
the night sky was studded with a thousand golden stars.
The flowers were all fragrant ; the birds slept. She could
see the deep, clear water of the lake, and hear the faint
rustle of the wind among the trees.
" How peaceful and calm ! " thought Belle. " Earth
is very fair. How much fairer will heaven be ? "
She sat there thinking, engrossed by the fair, peace¬
ful beauty of the scene. Suddenly she heard footsteps
near. Raising her head, she saw Eric coming quickly
toward her.
" Belle ! " he said gently. " Ah ! I thought I could not
be mistaken. I saw the glimmer of scarlet and white in
the distance. Why did you run away?"
" I wanted to be alone," she said.
" Why, Belle, there is the shadow on your face again.
What is it doing there ?"
By the faint light of the lamps that sweet face looked
very fair. He looked admiringly at it.
" You have been thinking all kinds of sad thoughts," .
he said. "Tell them to me, Belle."
He drew nearer, and her face flushed crimson.
"Nay," she said. "Why should I tell you my
thoughts, Mr. Chilvers ? I can hardly understand them
myself. Why should I tell them to you ? "
'"Because, my darling, my beautiful Belle, I love you !
Nay, do not turn away from me. I love you with all my
heart, and I pray you to be my wife."
She tried to answer, but the words died away on her
lips.
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
139
" Speak to me, Belle ! Oh, my darling, I have fright¬
ened you ! Your sweet face has grown white, and your
hands tremble. Belle, I loved you the first moment I
saw you. I have loved you ever since, and it seems to
me that I shall love you till I die. I pray you to be
mine, sweet. Do not think me cruel to frighten you so,
Belle. You do not know how dearly I love you."
She was still silent, but another look at the sweet face
satisfied him.
" You are not angry, Belle? You do not think me
presumptuous? You are smiling ! Say you love me ! "
" I am not quite sure whether I ought to say so,"
replied Belle.
" If you do not, I shall be the most miserable man
under heaven. Say, ' I love you, Eric !' Let me hold
those dear hands in mine while you say the words."
She whispered them so faintly only a lover could have
heard.
" Heaven bless you, my darling. You are mine now,
and nothing shall part ns. I shall always remember this
evening of the ball as the happiest of my life. You do
not know how dearly I love you, Belle."
"I shall know sdon," she said, laughingly, " if you
persist in telling me so often."
" I should never tire of the telling, sweet. Belle, I
can hardly believe I am so fortunate as to win you for
my wife ; it seems to me quite incredible. I do not
deserve such happiness."
He drew the sweet face' near to his, and kissed it as
though nothing but death could part them ; then, with
his arm clasped round the slender, graceful figure, he
told the story of his love.
He stopped suddenly, for the sweet eyes were fixed
on his face, and they were full of half-wondering, half-
wistful reproach.
" What is it, Belle ?" he asked. " What are you
thinking of ? Tell me.
" I am wondering," she said, slowly, " if it is right
for me to love you at all."
" You confess, then, vou do love me ? "
140
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
"Ah, Eric, you know that; but I wonder if it is
right ? "
" Most decidedly ; not only right, but very proper and
pleasant—nothing could be more so. Why do you doubt
it, Belle ? "
She hesitated.
" I hardly know," she replied, " whether I ought to
tell you or not."
" Again I say most decidedly. I have a right to
know every thought that passes through your mind;
above all, those that trouble you. Why are you not sure
if it be right to loved me ? "
"You will laugh at me, and I do not like being
laughed at. I fear, because I heard so many people
saying that Reine and you should marry."
He laughed aloud, and his careless, happy laugh re¬
assured her.
" Were people kind enough to interest themselves so
deeply ? " he said. " Oh, Belle, you know it is not true !
Reine and I have never thought of such a thing."
Her white fingers played nervously with the little
gold locket she wore.
" But, Eric, do you think—are you quite sure that
Reine does not like you ? "
He laughed again.
" She likes me, darling, I hope and believe, but not
in the way you mean; we are the best of friends. Why
do you ask me ? "
" So many people seemed to think it a settled thing.
Then I fancied Lord Arncourt looked as though he would
like it."
" I do not suppose such an idea has ever entered his
mind," said Eric. "As for Reine, we are friends, noth¬
ing more ; and, as you know, we are not always that."
" Did it never occur to you that marrying Reine
would be, as I heard it called to-night, ' a very suitable
arrangement ?' "
" No ; it never did occur to me," he replied. * " The
only idea that has occurred to me is marrying you."
" Oh, Eric, the ball ! I had forgotten all about it,"
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
cried Belle. " I only came for a few minutes, but I have
been here more than half an hour.,'
" I shall tell Lord Arncourt to-night what a treasure
I have won," he said ; but Belle clung imploringly to his
arm.
" Not yet," she said ; " not yet, Eric. Let me be
happy in my love for a short time yet."
" It shall be as you wish, darling," he said, kissing
the white hand. " I will not name it until you give me
permission."
Then they returned to the ball-room together.
CHAPTER XXXII.
" HAVE YOU FOUND SUCH A ONE ? "
"I cannot understand it," said Reine. "I cannot
think why he does not care for me. But he shall—he
shall. What does fire do with the obstacles that come
before it ? Destroys them ! So will I, should any ob¬
stacle come between me and my love. I would destroy
it as I do this."
She pulled asunder the leaves of a beautiful flower
as she spoke, and scattered the blossoms. Her beauti¬
ful face flushed crimson.
"I would have no mercy," she said, "no compassion.
I would make my heart hard as a nether stone, and then
I would destroy."
Looking at her, so haughty, so proud, so defiant, so
daring, there seemed little doubt but that she would
keep her word.
Three weeks passed since the evening of the ball,
and Belle's secret was still kept. More than once Eric
had asked her why she objected so much to having her
secret known.
" I have such a presentiment over it,'" she would
142
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
reply. It seems to me that while my love is a secret it
is safe, but that if it ever gets known, it is all over."
" What gives you that foreboding ?" he asked.
" I cannot tell ; but it is here, it never leaves me—
a dull, cold foreboding, My heart seems at times to
ache with it." i
" But, Belle, darling, that is not reasonable. Why
should you feel ever dull ? No one can oppose us. Al¬
though I am Lord Arncourt's heir, I am my own master.
Neither he nor any one else can say me nay, on the sub¬
ject of my marriage. It concerns me alone ; and you
—who would be likely to refuse you ? Not madame ;
she loves you too well."
" I cannot tell exactly what I fear," said Belle; "but
I do think, Eric, these forebodings come as a warning
to us. Oh, Eric, why should you be in so great a hurry ?
We cannot be happier than we are."
" I beg leave to differ," he cried. " I want my wife.
1 have never known the happiness of having a home of
my own ; but, when you are my wife, Belle, I shall have
a home that will be heaven. Why, my darling, you shud¬
der, you look ill; surely you do not let that tiresome
foreboding really trouble you ? "
" I cannot help it," she said, sadly. " I would give
the world to lose it, but it seems to haunt me. Can
there be evil in store for us, Eric ?
" No," he answered, boldly; " as far as I can see it
is impossible. What have we to dread ? We have faith
in each other. I am not afraid that you will elope with
anyone else ; I am quite sure that I shall not. What
can there be to fear ?"
" One of us might die," she said, slowly.
His voice changed; his face assumed a reverent ex¬
pression.
" We are all in the hands of God," he said ; "our
lives belong to Him. Have better faith, Belle. Why
should you think of death ? You are young and strong
as I am."
"The young, and the dearly loved, have died before
now," she said.
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
143
" People have lived, loved, and been happy for many
years," he retorted. " I shall begin to fancy that you
are ill, Belle, if you give way in that fashion. Who
ever heard of a beautiful young lady giving way to a
presentiment ?"
Though he tried to cheer her, and laugh away her
fears, still he felt anxious over her He could not un¬
derstand why she should have this dull, vague forebod¬
ing.
"This ought to be the happiest time of my darling's
life," he said to himself ; " but it is made wretched by
this presentiment of evil, in which she causes me to
share."
At her desire he said nothing to Lord Arncourt,
and no one guessed at the love between them. Well
might Reine wonder why he was so hard to win ; why
her beauty and grace made no impression upon him ;
why he never went beyond simple kindness. " Belle's
words had put him on his guard. It was bad enough
for people to talk of the probability of a marriage that
could never take place. He did not believe that Lord
Arncourt desired such a thing—why should he? Reine
was beautiful enough to win the heart of a king ; she
might aspire to any rank. He, blinded by love, could
not see, as others saw, the suitability of such a marriage.
It did not seem to him particularly appropriate that
Lord Arncourt's daughter should marry his heir. He
was blind, also, to the passionate love of Reine, the pre¬
ference she gave him over every one else—in fact, he
was blind to everything save the one great truth that
he loved Belle, and Belle loved him.
There was no art, no charm that Reine did not em¬
ploy to bring him to her feet. She would ask him to
go out sketching with her, and they would spend long
mornings in the beautiful woodlands. She would ask
him to read to her such poetry that the eloquent words
seemed as though they must win love from him who
uttered them. She would sing to him, in the quiet
gloaming, such songs as would have moved any man's
heart; but neither her beauty, her grace, her genius,
144
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
nor her gift of song, could win him from his allegiance,
or make him love Belle less. He was true to her as
the needle to the pole.
" Eric," said Reine, one morning, as they sat under
a large cedar tree—Belle was walking with Lord Arn
court at some little distance, and madame sat with
some intricate piece .of fancy work in the grotto—" Eric,
you read poetry very beautifully."
" I am flattered by your compliment, Reine," he re¬
plied, laughingly.
"You read love songs so well I could almost fancy
you had been in love."
" Fancy is vain, and almost always deceitful, Reine,"
he said. " Never yield to fancies."
" But, Eric, have you never been in love ? I was
reading somewhere, the other day, that no man ever at¬
tained his twentieth year without having had some
severe attacks of it. Is it true ? "
"I am not qualified to judge. I have not had several
attacks; indeed, I have not had one of the kind you
• mention. Yet I have attained my twentieth year; in¬
deed, I have passed it."
" And have never yet been in love ? I congratulate
you."
" I did not say that, Reine. I am not one of those
who hold love lightly, who treat it as a jest. To me it
is a very sacred and beautiful mystery. ' The lady I
loved' would always seem to me far above all other
women, far as the stars are from earth. She would
seem to me most deserving of esteem and respect, most
to be reverenced—the one woman apart from all others.
I should see her face among a crowd, and it would be
the only one present to me. I should hear her voice
and distinguish it, when perhaps it would reach no
other ears. I should love her living and dying. I
should be true to her in life and death. That is not the
love men treat lightly and hold of little worth."
Her face glowed as she listened to him; her eyes
flashed with a light that was beautiful to see.
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
HS
" What kind of woman would you love, Eric ? "
she asked, gently.
"She must be gentle, yet proud; pure of heart,
sweet, and stainless of soul ; she must be capable of
giving me in return such love as I give to her ; she
must be true; she must be noble, generous, unselfish ;
she must be woman, child, and angel."
" Have you found such a one ? " she asked.
The breath came in hot, thick gasps from her lips ;
her heart beat fast.
He did not seem to hear her; his eyes were fixed
intently on Belle.
" Eric, have you found such a one ? " she repeated.
He smiled a grave, gentle smile.
" I think—I hope I have, Reine," he replied.
She was silent for some little time.
" I must not ask whom ? " she said, gently.
"No," he replied. "You shall know some day—
soon."
No thought of Belle crossed her mind.
" He loves me," she thought. " I am his ideal, and
he will tell me soon."
He, looking at her, wondered at the light that over¬
spread her face.
" How mistaken Belle was !" he thought. " Reine
is even pleased that I have found some one to love"
So they played at cross purposes with each other, and
each mistake, each little misunderstanding, seemed to
bring the tragedy nearer.
Eric joined Lord Arncourt, and Belle, seeing Reine
alone, went to her. She was struck by the softened,
happy tenderness of the beautiful face.
" How happy you look, Reine ! " she said.
" I am happy," she replied. " I have just learned
something that will make me happy till I die."
Belle looked at her. There was no misunderstanding
what she meant, yet the young girl wondered. Had she
received a love letter ? Had Eric been delivering a
message from some one? That must be it, and yet it
seemed strange that he should have said nothing to her.
146
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
" I hope you will be happy, Reine," she said, sud,
denly. " I think you ought to be—beautiful, bright
beings, such as you, do not seem to be born to suffer."
" I do not intend to suffer more than I can help,"
laughed Reine. " But what of beautiful, bright beings
like yourself, Belle ? "
" I am neither bright nor beautiful," said Belle, hum¬
bly ; but Reine, half-patronizingly, assured her that the
day would come when some one would consider her
both.
" It is wonderful that she does not suspect," thought
the girl ; but no idea was further from Reine's mind
than this—that Eric Chilvers loved and was betrothed
to the girl she looked upon as her own sister.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
" i did not find my ideal among them."
The spring came round again, and this season it
was imperative, madame declared, that Miss Arncourt
should make her debut. She told Lord Arncourt so.
" Whatever plan you may have formed for Reine,"
she said, " that must not be delayed any longer."
And the master of Neversleigh Abbey avowed very
frankly that she was right.
There was one thing upon which he was determined.
Belle should go with her; Belle should share every ad¬
vantage. Madame, too, must, if she would, chaperon
both young ladies.
A look of great satisfaction came over madame's
face. She murmured something about the difference
opposition, Lord Arncourt would not listen to it.
"They have been like sisters all their lives," he said;
"whv should any difference be made now ? "
Madame said there must always be a great difference
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
147
between the only child of Lord Arncourt and her
daughter, who had no fortune.
" She has her name, madame ; she is a St. Lance,
and that is all-sufficient."
So it was arranged ; and when the time came, Lord
Arncourt, with his household, went to Laubrae House.
Eric had left them for some time then, and, by
Belle's desire, the engagement was still a secret. He
was in London, and Lord Arncourt asked him to spend
as much time with them as he possibly could.
It was greatly Lord Arncourt's wish that his daugh¬
ter should be introduced at court. He had intended and
hoped that she would make her entree into the great
world as the betrothed wife of Eric Chilvers. He knew
that her beauty, her brilliancy, and the fact that she
was his daughter, would cause her to be surrounded with
admirers.
" She will have legions of lovers at her feet," he
thought. " I can only hope none of them will suit her
fancy."
The day came when Reine and Belle made their
debut before the greatest lady in the land, and, as Lord
Arncourt had foreseen, their appearance caused the
greatest sensation.
Nothing so beautiful, nothing so lovely as Lord Arn¬
court's daughter had been seen at the Court of St. James
for many years.
There were many people who thought that the young
French lady, Mademoiselle de St. Lance, was, if possi¬
ble. more beautiful than her friend. They preferred her
more quiet grace ; they fancied there was more of the
high-bred repose about her than with Miss Arncourt.
The two girls created a perfect furore. Laubrae
House was besieged with visitors. People talked in¬
cessantly of the beautiful debutantes, all the elite of Lon¬
don hastened to do homage to them ; and, as a matter
of course, there came hosts of lovers.
Some admired their beauty ; others respected their
fortune, but many loved them for their own sakes, quite
apart from any other motive.
148
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
Soon the young Earl of Brandon distinguished him¬
self by his devotion to Lord Arncourt's daughter. He
followed her like a shadow ; wherever she went he was
sure to go. He was young, handsome, clever; pos¬
sessed of one of the oldest names and finest fortunes in
England. Young as he was, people had begun to look
upon him as a rising man ; there were few more highly
spoken of, and he had but one Ambition in life, and that
was to win the beautiful Reine Arncourt for his wife.
Lord Brandon was one of the most eligible men in
England. He had been for the last two years looked
upon as one of the greatest matches. Mothers and
daughters alike had done their best to win him. The
Duchess of Quatretemps, whose daughters were all fair
and high-bred, had long desired that one of her daugh
ters should marry the young earl.
Time had been when he had paid some little atten¬
tion to the ladies. The youngest, Cecilia, was fair, with
golden hair; and of all the duchess's daughters, she
was the most beautiful. Lord Brandon had seemed to
admire her very much ; he had flirted with her during
the Christmas holidays, and the duchess had entertained
great hopes that when they met in London for the season,
the conquest would be completed, and her daughter be¬
come the Countess of Brandon. It would probably
have been so, but for the debut of Miss Arncourt. The
young earl fell in love with her at once. He had been
so much sought after that the fact of his having fallen
in love was soon known.
People wondered why Lord Arncourt looked so dis¬
pleased when the fact of Lord Brandon's great admira¬
tion for his daughter was mentioned.
" What could he expect for her ? " they asked each
other. " Was he waiting for a royal prince ? "
It was quite evident that he had no desire to see his
daughter Countess of Brandon. He gave no encourage¬
ment to the young earl; he never invited him to Laubrae
House, except when his not doing so would have caused
some comment. All the attempts that Lord Brandon
made to join the riding parties were sure in some quiet
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
149
way to be frustrated. He would rot speak disparag¬
ingly of him, but it was noticed that he never praised
him or joined in the universal admiration expressed for
him. People wondered. Lord Brandon himself accus¬
tomed as he was to admiration, wondered at it.
He wondered at another thing. Reine seemed blind
to his merits, as her father was. In vain he wooed her
by looks, words, and every chivalrous action he could
think of. Sometimes she laughed at him ; whenever
she was in one of her happiest moods she teased and
bantered him ; but listen to him seriously, or show the
least sign of liking for him, was what Reine never did.
Lord Brandon and Eric were fast friends ; they ad¬
mired each other. The young earl, with the sure in¬
stinct of love, felt that in Lord Arncourt's heir he had no
rival. He had watched Eric narrowly, and came to
the conclusion that he would never love Reine. He
would have given all he had for one smile from her, for
one kind word.
He had been so much courted, so flattered, that to
find himself laughed at by this young girl, whom he
worshiped, was almost more than his pride could bear.
" Why can she not care for me ? " he wondered. " I
love her—I would make her happy; she should do in
all respects just as she would. I wonder why she can¬
not care for me ? "
All fashionable London wondered in the same man¬
ner.
Lord Brandon at last took courage, and laid his
heart, his fortune, his coronet, and his love at Reine's
She refused him, with a careless consciousness that
almost bewildered him.
Refused to become Countess of Brandon ; told him,
laughingly, that it was no use teasing her—that she
really did not care for him. She seemed as indifferent
to his magnificent offer as it was possible to be.
The young earl asked himself, in a half-dazed kind of
fashion, what the world was coming to when girls could
behave so recklessly.
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
But her refusal, her gay, girlish laughter, stirred all
the manhood within him.
" You do not love me, Miss Arncourt ? " he said.
There was not even a flush on the beautiful face as
she answered:
" No ; not in the least, Lord Brandon."
He was silent for some minutes, then a new light
came into his eyes.
" I know why," he said. " You are more noble, even
as you are more beautiful, than other women. I am
rich ; but you do not care for riches. He whom you
love must be great with the truest greatness. I will make
myself worthy of your love, Mis Arncourt ; then I will
ask you for it again."
She was touched by his words, and her first impulse
was to tell him it was useless, for she loved some one
else ; then the words died away on her lips. How could
she own she loved some one who had never spoken one
word of love to her ?
She had tried to arouse Eric's jealousy. Every
trifling sign of preference that she had shown him,
every kind, laughing word that she had ever uttered to
him, had been in Eric's presence.
But, to her great mortification and annoyance, Eric
had seemed pleased. When she was kinder than usual,
he seemed to share Lord Brandon's pleasure. If he were
sitting by her side and the young earl entered the room,
Eric always rose and made way for him. That alone
irritated Reine.
" It Seems as though he wished me to like him,"
she thought. " And yet, that cannot be—he is only
trying me."
Strange, that although she kept a strict and jealous
lookout for all rivals, she never thought of finding one
in Belle. She was pleased with the result of her
scrutiny.
Eric was a popular favorite, as Lord Arncourt's heir
was sure to be ; but among all the beauties and belles,
she could not see that he distinguished one.
" Do you not think the English ladies very fair and
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
beautiful ? " she asked him, one evening, as they sat to¬
gether at the opera. " Look around ; how refine and well-
bred, how beautiful many of the faces are ! "
He did look round, with a smile.
" I agree with you," he said, laughingly.
" You agree in that careless fashion of yours that
always annoys me so greatly ; but you do not seem en¬
thusiastic."
" I did not find my ideal among them," he said.
And her heart beat with triumph ; she fancied he had
found it in France, and that she herself was the ideal of
his dreams.
" I shall never envy the Englishwomen their fair,
blonde beauty again," she said to herself ; " mine has
won him !"
CHAPTER XXXIV.
"what had she to dread?"
The season was over, and for Reine it had been a
most hrilliant success. Beautiful, gentle Belle had refused
some excellent offers, greatly to Lord Arncourt's wonder.
The most eligible of her lovers was Sir Harry Bellairs, a
handsome young baronet, who had fallen deeply in love
with her.
Lord Arncourt had pleaded his cause, but Belle raised
her sweet eyes to his.
" I do not love him, my lord," she said ; and after
that the master of Neversleigh said no more.
Something in the girl's face—in the pure, earnest,
gentle expression—touched him deeply.
" You shall please yourself, Belle," he said ; "no.one
shall persuade you against your will. I would not have
spoken, but I like Sir Harry, and think he will make one
of the kindest husbands, I shall say no more about it."
And long after she had left him, my lord sat wonder
1S2
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
ing what it was in the girl's face that touched him sc
deeply ; why the sound of her voice seemed to move the
very depths of his heart.
" I shall begin to love her better than Reine unless I
am careful, and that will not do."
Madame was also very solicitous for the young
baronet.
" Why do you not say ' Yes' to him. Belle ? You will
perhaps never have a better offer."
" I do not want one, dear mamma. Some time or other
—not now—I will tell you why I did not say ' Yes ' to
Sir Harry Bellairs."
Madame tried all her powers of persuasion ; she used
every argument she could bring to bear on the subject—
she said all that was possible. Belle only listened with
a sweet smile, and repeated her words.
" I will tell you some day, dear mamma, why I cannot
say, ' Yes.' "
The pallor deepened on madame's face as she came
away ; the lines of care were more strongly marked.
" She refuses him because she loves Eric," said ma-
dame to herself; " and mischief will come of it. Mischief
will come of it, I am sure."
So thg, season came to an end, and Lord Arncourt
went with his household to Cowes. He invited Eric to
accompany them, but Eric declined. He was otherwise
engaged.
" The fact is," he said laughingly to Belle, " if I were
to go there with you, I must tell Lord Arncourt of our
engagement. I should be making love to you, I am sure,
and that would never do, unless you are willing for me
to speak, Belle ? "
But Belle shrank sensitively from making her secret
known.
"Wait, Eric," she pleaded, " just a little longer. You
will join us at Neversleigh, and we can think about it
then."
He obeyed her ; and Lord Arncourt went to Cowes,
wondering why Eric did not care more about accompany¬
ing them. He had not given up his darling project of
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
*53
marrying his daughter to his heir. Circumstances had
not, up to the present time, been propitious. But he
had great faith in time and opportunity.
The beautiful sea breeze at Cowes brought fresh
health and vigor to the two young girls. There, with
the music of the waves sounding ever in her ears, Reine
gave herself up to the passionate dream of her heart.
She had time then to think of Eric ; even amid the
hurry and excitement of a London season she never for
one moment forgot him. No matter how much she was
occupied, deep down in her heart his image was always
present. But here she had nothing to take her thoughts
from him; morning, noon, and night they were of him
alone.
Listening to the grand music of the sea, she allowed
the passionate love of her heart to shape itself into
thoughts, and her thoughts to form words. She gave
herself up to.this engrossing love. Earth held no other
charm for her, no other hope.
Should she win him ? If there be ought in resolution,
force of will, in strength of purpose—yes, she would, at
any risk. Why should she fear? She had everything
on her side—youth, beauty, talent, and she loved him.
Ah, heaven ! how dearly she loved him !
" It would be better for me to die than to fail! "
she said to herself. " The fire must destroy me if it
falls back on me ! "
Yet she was neither discouraged nor despairing.
True, Eric had not said in so many words that he loved
her ; but she could not doubt it. She admired him all
the more for his silence ; she thought it arose from his
great consideration for her ; that he wanted her to see
plenty of the world before he asked her to pledge her
faith to him.
'• As though that were needful," she said to herself,
with a sweet laugh. " If kings and emperors came to
me and asked me to wear a crown, I would refuse for
his sake."
It never occurred to her that Eric had passed her
by, and had laid his love at Belle's feet; she would have
*54
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
laughed such an idea to scorn. Belle win where she
had failed !—it would be too absurd. Belle, the penni¬
less daughter of a ruined race—Belle, who had neither
" houses, land, nor money," to outrival her !
Then Lord Arncourt left them at Cowes while he
went over to Paris, and there he met Lord Brandon.
How the young earl managed will never be known,
but by dint of constant attention and diplomatic con¬
duct he contrived to win from Lord Arncourt an invita¬
tion to Neversleigh. How hard he worked for it could
be faintly guessed from the deep sigh of relief with
which he heard it.
" I shall see her again," he thought, "and it will
be something strange if I fail this time."
Reine smiled when she read in her father's letter
that the earl would join them at Neversleigh. Madame
looked pleased, and Belle declared herself to be de¬
lighted, but Reine was indifferent. She read the re¬
mainder of the letter, then suddenly her face flushed
crimson.
" Eric is coming ! " she cried. " Papa says that we
shall be quite a large party."
If she had looked attentively at Belle she would
have seen that this intelligence was nothing new to her ;
so the tragedy drew nearer, while those who were to be
actors in it were all unconscious.
They reached Neversleigh on the close if a beauti¬
ful August evening, and Lord Arncourt said there was
no time to lose—immediate preparations must be made
for the reception of their visitors.
" Papa," said Reine, that same night, "when is Eric
coming ? "
" He will be here with Lord Brandon on Wednes¬
day," was the reply.
" I wonder why he did not join us at Cowes ?" said
the girl, musingly.
Lord Arncourt smiled.
" Perhaps he wanted to give us time to miss him, so
that we might know his value, Reine."
But Reine flushed crimson.
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
"Eric may have faults, but he is not vain," she
cried.
Lord Arncourt was well pleased; he liked to hear
his daughter so warmly espouse the cause of his heir.
Then Reine continued:
" Why is he coming now, papa ? Did you invite
him ?"
" No ; that I certainly did not, Reine. He wrote
to me, volunteering to pay us a visit.. I was only too
pleased to acquiesce."
" I am sorry that tiresome Lord Brandon is coming,
too," she said. " I wish he would fall in love with
Belle, papa. She refused Sir Harry, but perhaps she
would take him."
" I cannot regulate such affairs, Reine. People
have a way of pleasing themselves, as you perhaps
know."
She did know, to her cost ; she knew all about it.
She had pleased herself—why should not Belle to the
same ?
Reine hardly knew how time passed until Wednes¬
day came; it was one long dream of coming happiness
to her. Eric had invited himself to Neversleigh, and
he could only be coming with one object—that was
herself. He was coming to woo and to win he. Pie
had given her time to see something of society, and now
he was coming to ask her to be his wife.
She never doubted it. If she had been less en¬
grossed in her own love affairs, less absorbed in herself,
less vain, less selfish, she would have seen that Belle
was unlike herself. The time for the revelation of her
secret was coming, and Belle was almost ill with fear.
"Fear of what? " she asked herself a hundred times
each day.
What had she to dread ? It was not probable that
any one would interfere with Eric's marriage.
She blamed herself for her weakness in giving way
to presentiments. She took herself to task ; but the
foreboding grew upon her, and she could not help it.
Wednesday came at last, and it seemed to Reine
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
that the sun had never shone so brightly, that the
world had never been so fair.
" He will be here before sunset," she said ; and she
blessed the day.
Her maid had never found her so difficult to please.
Her dress was of palest violet and gold. He admired
those colors before, and she wanted to show him how
she remembered his tastes.
Finn, the gardener, was made quite anxious by the
sudden demand for blush-roses.
" No matter whether he had any or not, Miss Arn-
court must have some; " and he looked round in dis¬
may. By that time Reine's strength of will was too
well known for any one to oppose her.
The gardener found the roses, and she wore them in
her dark hair, on her white breast, thinking that they
would please him.
But when he came, Eric did not even notice them ;
he had quite forgotten the little episode of the blush-
rose.
CHAPTER XXXV.'
" you, above all other men ! "
The visitors had been at Neversleigh for two days.
There had been such a constant succession of new arri¬
vals that no one had formed any plans as yet, neither
had there been time for the exchange of many connected
words,
Madame was, to all intents and purpose, mistress of
the house ; but Reine, as Lord Arncourt's daughter, had
to received all guests and provide for their amusement.
They were a large and merry party.
Lord Arncourt liked to see young faces around him ;
he liked the fresh, sweet sound of young voices and happy
laughter.
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
157
The evening came at length, when Reine found her¬
self, for the first time, at leisure. The dinner had been
a great success. Lord Arncourt had looked delighted,
and the gentlemen had not lingered over their wine.
Now every one seemed happily disposed of; some
were at the piano ; one group lingered over an album ;
there were others intent upon chess.
Looking around, Reine saw none but happy and
interested faces. Lord Brandon was talking very ear¬
nestly to Belle,
" Perhaps he is falling in love with her," she said to
herself. " I wish he would; then he would cease to
trouble me."
She little dreamed that the young earl was even then
confiding to the gentle girl the story of his love for the
brilliant, beautiful' Reine, and asking her to help him if
she could, as he had already asked Eric.
Reine looked for madame, who was playing at chess ;
then her eyes lingered on Eric's face, and, strange to
say, Eric was looking at her.
She met his gaze, his bright, clear eyes fixed on hers.
He seemed to be thinking of her so deeply that he did
not even notice her glance.
Reine's face grew crimson, and that seemed to at¬
tract his attention. He rose suddenly from his seat, and
went over to her.
"Reine," he said, "I want to speak to you."
" I am at your service," she replied, but her eyes
drooped from his, and her lips trembled.
" Not here," he said. " I have something to say to
you, something very especial, and I do not care to be
overheard. Will you come out" on the terrace ? See,
several of our friends are there."
She clasped her hands for one minute as one who
prays, then she laid'them on her heart, as though she
would fain stop its tumultuous beating if she could.
It had come at last—the happy, blissful, blessed mo¬
ment for which she had longed. It had come—he wan¬
ted her, to tell her that he loved her, to ask her to be
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
his wife. The very shock of the happiness made her
grow cold and white ; even her lips turned pale.
" Have I frightened you, Reine ? " he asked. " I
am so abrupt! Never mind, I can wait for another op¬
portunity."
She raised her dark eyes to his, and the expression
startled him.
" I will go with you," she said.
" But, Reine, what made you turn so pale? You
frightened me."
She made him no answer, hut the next minute he
saw her out in the moonlight, the moonbeams falling on
her dress of violet and gold, and on the blush roses.
Never did moonbeams fall on a fairer picture.
They walked in silence to the stone parapet. Roses
and passion flowers, all sweet, climbing blossoms, seemed
entwined around the slender pillars.
" I want to speak seriously, Reine," began Eric;
not in that half-laughing fashion we seem to have
adopted, but as one who has your dearest interest at
heart."
It was not much like the commencement of a declara¬
tion of love ; but no doubt chilled Reine.
•'I am very happy to believe it," she said, softly.
" It so happens that young people understand each
other," he continued. "You and I do, that I believe,
although we have spent the greater part of our time in
badinage. Still we have a true regard for each other,
Reine, have we not?
" Yes," she said, more faintly.
How long it was coming, yet how intensely she
longed to hear it.
" If you thought anything would conduce to my
happiness, you would point it out to me, would you not,
Reine?"
" Yes," she replied again.
" I see something that I think will make you very
happy—will make your future all bright and golden. I
want you to-consent to it. You are not quite like other
girls, Reine; you are very beautiful and brilliant, but
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
*59
you are peculiar. Other girls would not require this
little lecture that I am about to give you, if you will let
me."
" You may say what you will," she said.
It must be coming ; it must be that he meant. He
had brought her out there to tell her that he loved her,
and not for any other purpose. It must be so ; yet her
heart began to beat with a wild, strange fear.
" The time will come when you must marry, Reine.
Now, I want you to allow me to talk to you just as
though I were your own brother. Lord Brandon loves
you very dearly ; will you tell me why you cannot love
him ?"
He saw her face droop to the cold stone; he fancied
a low, muffled cry came from her lips ; but " it was only
fancy," he said to himself, and he went on,—
" He is a noble man, Reine, if you would but think
seriously of him. Give him a patient hearing; do not
laugh at him always. I do not know anywhere a man
whom I respect and esteem more highly than I do him."
Still from the girl at his side came no word.
" I should like to see you happy, Reine, and I am
sure that he would make you so. He is noble, gen¬
erous, true, all that a man should be; and, Reine, such
men are not common. He loves you so very dearly, I
wish you would try to care for him."
Then she raised her face, all ghastly in the moon-
light.
" Do you mean that you wish me to marry him ?"
she asked.
"Yes: that is what I mean, Reine. And no per¬
son living could give you better counsel than that."
Her face fell forward again, and he heard her, in a
strange, low voice, cry out,—
" Great Heaven ! Have I deserved this ? "
" Reine," he said, " you are not angry with me, I
hope ? "
There was a minute's perfect silence ; then she
raised her white face again.
"Angry—why should I be ? You know better."
160 A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
She laughed recklessly; the very evil spirit of pride
seemed aroused in her.
" Why should I be angry ? "
He looked at the white face, and the dark, flashing
eyes.
" I do not understand you, Reine."
She laughed, that terrible, reckless laugh, that
seemed to fill his veins with fear.
"You never did understand me," she replied;
" never, Heaven help me ! "
" Reine, you make me very unhappy. What have I
done to you ? It is simply for your own good, and
because I thought you would be really happy if you
married Lord Brandon."
He could not help seeing how the slender figure
trembled and shook as a leaf in the wind.
" You. to counsel me to.marry Lord Brandon ! " she
cried. " You, above all other men."
" Yes, I, above all other men, Reine because I feel
more interest in you ihan many men do."
She turned round upon him almost fiercely.
"Interest!" she repeated, with scorn. "I never
asked you for interest."
" You never askea me for anything," he said, gently.
" But I expected it," she moaned to herself, rather
than to him.
" There need not be any more said, Eric," she con¬
tinued. " I shall not marry Lord Brandon, and I hope
you will never mention the subject again."
But though she controlled her words, the white face
told its own story.
He drew back in sudden, startled alarm, for it
flashed across him that she loved him.
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
CHAPTER XXXVI.
" you have not displeased me."
The thought that, all unconscious, in all ignorance,
he had won that proud heart, was terrible to him \ he
would at that moment have given worlds never to have
seen Neversleigh.
This proud, brilliant, beautiful girl loved him, and he,
in his turn, loved some one else.
Still he was too true a gentleman, too noble a man,
to allow his discovery to be perceived. He was quite
silent for some moments ; then he said to her, very
gently:
" I beg your pardon, Reine; perhaps I have done
wrong in attempting to interfere. Each of us knows
best what is pleasing to us."
There was infinite pity or compassion in his voice,
but she did not notice it. Something like a mist of
tears gathered in his eyes as he looked at her. His
considerate kindness for her was greater, now that he
knew what her love must cost her.
They had been standing in silence for some minutes,
when Reine turned to him suddenly.
" Do not wait for me," she said ; " I am not going in
again. I am tired of people and their voices, altogether
tired. I would far rather stay here in the starlight."
He could quite understand why she did not care to
return.
" You are right," he said; "I think nothing rests
one so much as being alone on a beautiful night like
this."
He took one of her hands in his; it was cold as
death.
"Shall I fetch you a shawl, Reine?" he asked,
"You seem cold and chilled."
162
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
" No," she replied. " The greatest kindness you can
do for me is to leave me alone."
In the tone of her voice he detected that she had
endured as much as was possible ; it was best, perhaps,
to go.
" Good-night, Reine ; and if I have said anything
that has displeased you, I pray you to forgive me."
"You have not displeased me," she replied, me¬
chanically. " Good-night!"
He turned away, sad at heart, and left her alone.
Ah, well ! Moonlight and starlight have looked
upon strange scenes before now, but they never saw a
face more convulsed with passion, they never saw such
a tempest of pride, scorn, of outraged love, of anger and
despair, as raged within the soul of that beautiful girl.
The wind sighed around her, the pale starlight fell
on the sleeping flowers ; but neither calm nor beauty
were to touch her then or for evermore.
Eric went back to the drawing-room like one stun¬
ned. His discovery fairly frightened him. He tried 10
argue with himself that it could not possibly be true ;
but the conviction was there, and he could not help it.
She loved him. Her face, her eyes, had told hin-s
the truth ; her confused words, her passion of anger
and despair, the ghastly face, that seemed to rise like
an accusing spirit before him, all told the same truth
—she loved him, and he had nothing to give her in
return.
Was he to blame ? While laughter and song, the
music of happy voices, floated around him, he asked
himself that question—" Was he to blame ?" He could
not remember that in any one single degree, either by
look, word, or action, he had exceeded the bounds of
civility and politeness. He had never flirted with her,
in the common acceptation of the word ; he had never
made the least pretense of loving her. Think as he
would, he could not remember ever having said one
word that could have misled her. Yet she loved him ;
there could be no doubt of it What was he to do ? A
sweet voice near him roused him from his sad thoughts.
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION. 163
" Eric, what are you thinking of ? You look so un¬
happy, dear. Surely, you have had no bad news ? You
are not ill ? "
" No, my darling ; I am only perplexed—more per¬
plexed than I can tell you."
"You can tell me what about," she replied ; "and
perhaps I can help you."
Eric assumed the lofty air that a man generally takes
when he fancies he is cleverly pacifying a woman.
" It is nothing that you would understand, my dear
Belle. I am going to ask Sir John Pierrepointe to sing
■—have you ever heard him ? "
Belle was one of the submissive order ; she under¬
stood perfectly well that the question about Sir John
was simply a ruse to divert her attention. She was
obedient enough to think to herself that Eric did not
wish to tell her his thoughts, therefore she would not
tease him.
" I shall be much pleased to hear Sir John," she re¬
plied ; "also to see your face cleared and to see you
smile."
He did smile as he looked at her, so fair, so gentle,
so sweet ; then he sighed as he remembered the proud,
beautiful face in its anguish of despair. •
" I thank heaven, Belle," he said, " that you love
me! "
He tried to put all memory of that scene far from
him just then ; but when he stood once more alone in
his own room, he was obliged to look the fact, painful
as it might be, in the face.
What was he to do? He blamed himself that he
had yielded to Belle's wish, and had kept his engage¬
ment secret.
" If she had known that I cared for Belle," he
thought, " it might have prevented all this."
She must know it at once ; common honor, com¬
mon honesty demand that. He had come to Never-
sleigh purposely to speak to Eord Arncourt about Belle,
and he must do it at once ; he would delay no longer.
On the morrow he would tell him, and then all would
164
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
be ended , yet even as he decided on doing so, there
came to him a dim sense of the terrible pain she
would suffer. Well, true, there was no help for it;
he loved Belle, and it was most certainly not his fault
if Reine had misunderstood him. There came to him
a vague idea that after all there might be some truth
in Belle's foreboding. This cloud that had already
risen, in some measure obscured his happiness, and
shadowed the brightness of his love.
He would see Lord Arncourt, and tell him all; it
would be hard to see Reine's white face, and know the
grief of that proud heart ; but it must be done. He
would gladly have borne the pain for her if he could,
but it could not be.
The morrow rose bright, warm, sweet, and fragrant ;
the morning sun fell upon one face, white and worn
with most bitter weeping, as though long years had
passed over it, and Reine started back with horror as
she looked at herself.
" If one night has changed me so," she thought,
"what shall I be when a year has. passed over my
head ? "
Eric awoke with a sense of pain quite new to him.
He savT Belle in the breakfast-room as he descended
the stairs.
"Belle," he said, "wish-me all kinds of good for¬
tune; I am going to speak to Lord Arncourt to-day."
Belle's face grew pale as death.
" I am afraid," she said, nor could Eric this time
laugh at her fears.
"You want to speak to me, Eric," said Lord Arn¬
court, later on ; "I am at leisure now. Will you come
into the library with me ? "
For once in his life Eric Chilvers lost his self-posses¬
sion ; yet what had he so fear ? The morning sun fell
bright and warm ; the sunbeams fell slanting on the
dark oaken floor with its rich crimson carpet. Lord
Arncourt took his accustomed seat, and looking at his
young heir, said :
" What is it, Eric ? what do want ? "
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
Eric was playing nervously with a carved ivory
paper-knife that lay on the table. He looked up sud¬
denly.
" My lord," he said, " you have always been kind to
me, and I do not fear any lack of kindness now."
Lord Arncourt smiled.
" That sounds as though you were going to ask some
favor, Eric. What is it ? You need not fear my refus¬
ing you anything you want."
" I have fallen in love, my lord, and I want you to
consent to my marriage."
Lord Arncourt's face brightened as though a sun¬
beam had fallen on it.
"That I am sure you will have," he replied. " I ask
no better gift from Heaven than your love for Reine."
But Eric's, dismayed face arrested the words on his
lips.
"For Reine!" he cried. "I do not love Reine;
that is all a mistake. It is Belle I love, and wish to
marry."
There was silence for some minutes. Lord Arn¬
court seemed unable to recover from the terrible blow.
Then he spoke, gravely and slowly.
" I can only suppose that I am mistaken," he said.
" I had an idea that you loved Reine." ■*
" I think Miss Arncourt one of the most beautiful
and gifted women in the world," he said ; " but I have
never once thought of her in that light. I fell in love
with Belle the moment I saw her."
" And does Miss De St. Lance return your affec¬
tion ? " asked Lord Arncourt, gravely.
" She does, my lord. I have her permission to ask
your consent to our marriage.
"You have it," he replied. "I have no possible
reason for refusing it. I do not mind frankly avowing
to you, Eric, that I had other views for you far different.
I will tell them to you. It was the great wish and desire
of my heart that you should marry Reine."
Eric looked embarrassed ; he was at a loss what to
say.
166 A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
It seemed to me," continued Lord Arncourt, "the
most sensible and appropriate thing, that my daughter
and my heir should marry. I am disappointed that it is
not so ; but of course I have no more to say:"
CHAPTER XXXVII.
" why is it not all different ? "
The pained, humbled, mortified look on Eric's face
seemed almost to touch Lord Arncourt's heart.
"It is always foolish for people to make plans for
others," he said. " However, fortunately in this case
there is no harm done. I have not mentioned my wish
to any one. Ah ! yes—I remember now that I hinted
them to madame; but she is discreet. I had thought
of this marriage before I ever saw Reine even. When
I found her so beautiful and brilliant, my hopes in¬
creased."
" She is everything that is admirable," said Eric.
" Only you have not fallen in love with her," said
Lord Arncourt, laughingly. " Well, as I said before,
there is no harm done ; and Miss de St. Lance is a most
charming girl—gentle, well-bred, and beautiful. You
could not have chosen more wisely, Eric. You will be
very happy with her, I am sure."
Then I have your permission ?" said Eric, gravely.
" You have my full consent and best wishes. It is
rather a matter of form than otherwise, your asking me,
Eric. I have no authority over you, and madame is
Belle's sole guardian."
But Eric, with a grace all his own, bent down and
kissed Lord Arncourt's hand.
" I owe you the deepest honor and the deepest re¬
spect," he said. " I would do nothing without consulting
you first."
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
167
"You must go to madame now, and—ah, me! Eric,
I envy her the happiness of calling you her son-in-law.
I am busy now, and cannot discuss details with you.
Later on we will make all arrangements for your mar¬
riage, and what income, as heir of Neversleigh, will meet
the requirements of your position. Go to madame now ;
it is her consent that is of such vital importance, not
mine."
Eric saw that Lord Arncourt wished to be alone, and
having expressed his most grateful thanks, he went
away.
" I seem to have disappointed everybody," he thought,
as he went to madame's room ; " but I could not help
loving Belle."
He found Madame de St. Lance sitting quite alone,
with the same sad, constrained, worn-out look on her
face that had always struck him. She glanced at him in
alarm, and her face grew even paler.
" You want to speak to me, Mr. Chilvers! What can
you possibly want with me ? "
"I will tell you, madame."
And standing before her, his graceful figure quite
erect, his hand resting on the table, he told the story of
his love.
To his intense surprise, when she had heard it, she
buried her face in her hands and wept, after a dreary,
hopeless fashion, that filled him with dismay.
" Madame," he cried, " I pray you do not do that!
You are not angry with me, surely, that I love your
beautiful Belle ? "
"Belle!" she repeated. "Oh, Mr. Chilvers, why is
it not all different ?—why do you not love Reine ? "
He looked at her in bewildered surprise.
" You speak as though love were within one's control,
madame. It is not. I love Belle, and no other."
But madame paid little attention to him ; she was
weeping bitterly,
" Reine, poor Reine !"
" Why should you pity Reine ? " he asked. Lord
Arncourt's daughter cannot surely need pity."
168
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
She seemed to make a desperate effort to recover
herself.
" I did not ask you. to pity her," she said. " Oh, Eric
Chilvers, what mischief you have made !—what sorrow
you have wrought ! Why did we ever come to this fatal
place ?"
He looked at her in utter wonder.
" My dear madame," he said, " are we not somewhat
beside the mark.? I ask your permission to marry your
daughter, the girl whom I love, and you accuse me of
making mischief! "
"Not in that sense of the word. You did not under¬
stand me, Eric. I speak without thinking. You ask me
if you may marry Belle. Have you made no mistake ?"
She folded her thin white hands, and raised them as
though she would pray to him.
"Are you sure there is no mistake?" she repeated.
" Is it not Reine you love ?"
" I have made no mistake ? " he said. " I love your
daughter, Belle de St. Lance ; she loves me, and I ask
your permission to marry her."
" Suppose I refuse permission—what then. Eric ? "
"You would not be so unjust, madame. You cannot
in honor refuse. Why should you ? "
" But what if I do ? " persisted madame.
" We Englishmen are famed for tenacity of purpose,"
replied Eric, with a charming smile. " If you refuse con¬
sent, I am afraid I should follow Belle all over the world
until I persuaded her to run away with me. I am very
frank, you see, madame."
"Would you forget her in time, and love some one
else ?"
"No, that I never should, madame. Belle is my only
love ; I shall never love another."
She looked long and earnestly in his face, her own
streaming with tears.
" I believe you, Eric," she said. " Only Heaven
knows how it will end ! I give my full consent, because
I see that you will love Belle, and no one else."
" I can tell you how it will end," he said, laughingly.
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
169
" You will see Belle the happiest wife in the world,
beloved and beautiful, honored and esteemed, held in
highest reverence. Then you will say, ' I did well to
give her to Eric, after all.' You will regret exceedingly
that you ever made either yourself or me sad with dismal
forebodings."
She tried to look more cheerful, but failed in the effort.
" I can only hope it will be so," she.said. " Have you
spoken to Belle ? "
He laughed.
" I am very happy, madame. Belle loves me, and has
promised, if you are willing, to be my wife."
" I hope you will be happy," said madame, gravely.
Then Eric went away.
" My darling will surely be brighter than her mother,"
he thought. " I have not met with a very cheerful recog¬
nition of my love at present."
When he had left her, madame rose from her seat ;
she clasped her hands as though in wild appeal. " It will
come ! " she cried ; " I can see it in the distance."
Then Eric, having won such consent as he considered
needful, went in search of Belle. He found her stand¬
ing by the lake, watching the white swans.
" I could not remain in the house," she said. "I felt
so uncomfortable, so anxious."
" I have nothing but good news, my darling," he
said. " Lord Arncourt gives his unqualified consent,
with the kindest of wishes. Madame does the same."
He had no intention of deceiving her, but he would
not cloud her happiness by telling her of the strange
reception he had met from both.
" Now there remains but one thing to be done, Belle
—that is, for you to tell me when you are willing to be
my wife. I have waited a long time; I have done my
best to please you. You must please me now, Belle ;
it is only fair. This is the end of August—will you
promise to be my wife when October comes ?"
" I do not suppose you have given me the alternative
of saying no," she replied, with a blush. " It shall be
so, if you wish, Eric."
170
A IVOMAA S TEMPTATION.
So it was decided they were to be married in October
and Eric believed that at length there was an end to his
troubles.
" Belle," he said, "I have an especial and most partic¬
ular reason for wishing our engagement to be made as
public as possible. You will allow me now to speak
of it ? "
" Will you tell me your reason, Eric ? " she asked,
with feminine curiosity.
" I would much rather not, my darling. Do not ask
me."
Like the submissive, gentle girl that she was, she
did not ask, and Eric was relieved by her silence.
"I'm going to tell Lord Brandon myself at once;
and, Belle, my darling, among all your lady friends who
has the reputation of being the greatest gossip ?"
" Miss Braderniss," she replied, with a prompt sim¬
plicity that charmed him.
" Then tell it to her as a great secret, and you
may be sure that the news will soon spread," said Eric,
for which cynical sentiment Belle reproved him severely,
and was most properly indignant
Eric, however, had his own special reasons. They
had one hour of untold happiness out among the sun¬
shine and flowers—one hour when they forgot that
earth had its cares, and remembered only that the gates
of Paradise were open for them. Then Eric went away
and sought Lord Brandon. He told him his news, and
the young earl congratulated him most warmly.
" I am afraid, Eric," he said, " that I shall never have
such good news for you. Miss Arncourt does not as
yet give me a gracious look."
The sunshine of his own happiness was in Eric's
heart ; he saw all things through its medium.
" I should persevere," he said. " Such love as yours
deserves its reward."
" Do you think perseverance in this case will win the
prize ? " asked Lord Brandon, anxiously.
• " I do. Miss Arncourt is a very noble girl; she
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION. 171
can appreciate fine qualities, and there is nothing so
fine as perseverance and fidelity."
"You give me courage," said Lord Brandon. "I
have not seen Miss Arncourt to-day. Ah ! there she is.
I will join her."
" You need not keep what I have been telling you a
secret," said Eric. " You can speak of it if you choose."
He was anxious that the news should be told to her
by some one before whom she would be unwilling to
betray herself.
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
" how long has he loved her."
Lord Brandon hastened to join Miss Arncourt.
He saw the blooming flowers as he passed by, but none
there seemed to him so fair as the beautiful girl he
loved so perseveringly.
"Who so fair," he asked himself, "as she? Who
so graceful ?"
If he could only win her for himself—win her and
keep her in his heart, he would be happy for evermore.
He went up to her. She was standing by the rose-
garden, her white hands toying carelessly with a beauti¬
ful rose. She knew that he was coming, yet her eyes
never glanced at him ; their expression was one of proud,
cold, wearied indifference.
When Lord Brandon drew near enough to look in her
face, he was startied by the terrible change in it. The
youth, the beauty, the exquisite bloom, the radiance—all
seemed to have died out of it, and given place to a hag¬
gard care and gloom.
" Miss Arncourt ! " he cried, in wonder.
Slowly she turned her dark, beautiful eyes on him.
" Do you want me ? " she asked.
172
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
" I saw you, and thought I should like to ask how
you were, but you surprised me,"
" To be easily surprised shows a weak mind," she
said, with a miserable attempt at her old gayety of man¬
ner.
" I am quite content to be considered weak-minded,
if you choose to call me so," he said, with a bow and a
smile. " But, Miss Arncourt, do pray assure me that
you are not ill."
" There is little need to assure you of the fact when
you find me standing before you in perfect health," she
replied.
" But you look so changed—do not frown ; you know
the least shadow of a frown from you makes me miser¬
able. I will not say that you look ill if it displeases you ;
I will keep my thoughts to myself."
" Perhaps that will be the wisest thing for. you to do,"
she said, dryly.
She was annoyed that the pallor of her face should
be noticed.
" I wonder, Miss Arncourt," said the young earl,
" what I could do to win one smile from you ? "
" I cannot tell," she replied ; " nor do I see why you
should trouble yourself about my smiles."
" You know how dearly and how desperately I love
you," he retorted, " and you might be just a little kinder
to me."
She laughed wearily.
"You know how little I believe in love at all," she
said. " It is only a poet's fallacy, a poet's dream."
Yet, even as she spoke the words, a sharp pain in her
own despairing heart told her how untrue they were.
" I ought not to give way to envy on such a beauti¬
ful morning as this," said Lord Brandon ; " but I feel
terribly inclined to envy Eric Chilvers."
Her heart beat at the sound of that name; a hot,
crimson flame seemed to burn her face; her eyes
flashed fire, then drooped,
" Eric Chilvers ! " she repeated. " Why should you
envy him ? "
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
173
" Because he is so happy. His face was all sunshine,
his eyes all brightness. He is happy, for he has won
what he loves best."
" What do you mean, Lord Brandon ? " she asked,
quickly.
She had turned round so that she could ltiok direct¬
ly at him. In her fierce impatience it seemed to her
that she could have taken the words from his lips.
"What do you mean ? " she repeated.
" Have you not heard ? Now I remember, Eric told
me it was only just settled. But surely you know all
about.it ; it can be no secret, no news to you."
Pie was looking at her with a half-wondering air that
added to her impatience. She tried to control it.
" I do not in the least understand you. I know of no
reason why your friend should be happier this morning
than any other morning."
" I should have imagined that you knew all about it.
I met Eric just now, and he asked me to congratulate
him; he had just won Lord Arncourt's consent to his
marriage with Miss de St. Lance."
Even as she looked at him the light faded from her
eyes, the flush died out of her face, leaving it white, col¬
orless, cold as the face of the dead.
" Say that again," she half-whispered.
" The news has agitated you," said Lord Brandon,
looking in wonder at that white face. " Still you must
have had some idea of it. Eric Chilvers is going to marry
Miss de St. Lance."
She stood perfectly still—-the same terrible shock
would have killed some women ; she clenched her hands
so tightly that the thorns of the rose ran deep into the
soft fingers, but she never felt the pain, Heaven and earth
seemed whirling around her. Death would have been
a relief to the terrible agony of that moment, but the
rest and silence of death were not for her. She stood
so for what seemed to her an eternity—it was but a few
minutes of time.
" How long has he loved her?" she asked, in a low
voice.
'74
A '"OMAN'S TEMPT A TIOM
" Ever since the first moment he saw her, so he tells
me," replied the young earl.
" When are they to be " She paused. It seemed
to her easier to die than to say the words— " When are
they to be married ? "
"In the month of October," he replied. "Now have
I not some reason to envy Eric ? "
" No," she replied, with a strange smile ; " you have
none."
" I wish I could agree with you. He has won his
love. I am willing to work, to serve and to wait for my
love, as Jacob did of old ; but I fear me that my love will
never smile on me."
She did not seem to have heard his words. She was
looking, with a strange, far-off gaze in her dark eyes, at
the distant trees.
" Had you really no suspicion of the state of affairs ? "
he continued. " Did it never strike you that Eric liked
Miss de St. Lance ? "
" No," she replied, slowly ; " I can safely aver that
I never did."
" I always fancied it, after I had once seen them to¬
gether," he said. " Are you going, Miss Arncourt ?"
He never forgot the strange look she gave him, the
strange smile she bent upon him.
" I must go and congratulate the bride that is to be,"
she replied. " Belle and I were always like sisters, you
know."
Without another word of apology she turned away,
leaving the young earl more surprised and bewildered
than he had ever been in his life before.
" What an incomprehensible girl that is," he said to
himself. " I love her, I worship the very ground she
stands upon ; yet I do not believe she will ever care foi
me. Oh, if I knew—if I only knew how to win her."
She walked on, regardless of everything. Lord Arn¬
court saw her as she passed the library window, and
called her name. She did not even hear him. Madame
sent word that she wished to see her. She never even
heard the message. Her brain and her heart were on
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
fire. She went into the house, and her maid, who was
crossing the hall, looked up in wonder at her white,
wild face. •
" Where is Miss St. Lance? " asked Reine ; and the
answer was : " In her own room."
Slowly, and with stately steps, she went up the broad
marble staircase. She rapped at the door of Belle's
room.
" Come in," said a low, happy voice.
Gravely, coldly, with a haughty step, Reine walked
up to the young girl. She looked into the sweet face.
" We have lived like sisters," she said. " Tell me
the truth ; are you going to marry Eric Chilvers ?"
And Belle, bending her head that she might not
meet that cold, proud glance, said, simply :
" He has asked me to do so, Reine, and my mother
is willing."
CHAPTER XXXIX.
" I love him better than my own life."
It was a scene that would have delighted an artist.
The two girls were so beautiful, so different to each
other. Belle so sweet, so shy, shrinking from her friend ;
yet with a face full of love and hope. Reine, like a
tragic muse, stern of aspect, grave of face, the pallor of
something like despair vailing its beauty. They might
have been taken in that moment for the goddess of love
and the goddess of revenge. It was well for Belle that
she could not see the glance bent upon her.
" Your mother willing ! " she said, contemptuously;
" as though that had anything to do with it."
" It has everything to do with it, Reine. I should
never marry without my mother's full and free consent."
An expression of angry scorn came over the beauti¬
ful face,
176
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
" It is your goodness, I suppose, that has won Eric,'"
she said. " Do you love him, Belle?"
The fair face flushed ancl drooped ; it was hard to own
that she loved any one, when asked in such cold, hard
tones.
" You need not have any affectation with me," said
Reine, impetuously ; " it does not impose upon me. I
ask you a question ; surely you don't mind answering
it-"
" I will answer any question you choose, Reine ; but
you are so cold—so cold and hard, dear."
" Am I ? " was the reply, and Reine laughed a mock¬
ing, reckless laugh that was not pleasing to hear. " Do
you love him, Belle ? or are. you going to marry him be
cause he will one day be Lord Arncourt's heir ?"
The sweet face flushed again.
" Why do you say such a thing to me, Reine ? You
know that it is for himself I love him."
Reine was silent for a few minutes, then she spoke
in an altered voice.
" Do you love him, Belle ?—do you really love him
very much ? "
No need for words ; the tender eyes, the sweet lips,
the bright, warm blush, give answer sufficient. No
words are needed, yet Belle speaks.
" I love him better than my own life," she says, gently,
and Reine stood for a few minutes irresolute, then with
sudden energy she cried out:—
" I do not believe that a girl of your ctdd nature
knows what love is ! "
"Yes," interrupted Belle, "you have known how
well I love you."
" That is a different matter. Now, Belle, supposing
that some one offered you even more wealth, every
earthly gift in richest profusion, to give him up, would
you do it ? "
She spoke very gently, and Belle did not see the fire
that flashed in the dark, luminous eyes ; she did not see
the trembling of the proud lip, the clenching of the
white hands.
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
177
" Would I ? " she repeated. " Ah, Reine, you know
I would not. I would rather be poor with him than be
a queen."
The beautiful face grew deadly pale.
" Would you ? I do not think Eric shares such senti¬
ments. Your lover, as a rule, does not forget the main
chance. You will find him so sentimental."
But her words did not anger Belle ; she looked up
at Reine's face with a smile.
" You are trying to tease me, Reme," she said, " but
I am too happy to be teased."
The gloom of the dark eyes deepened. Belle rose
from her seat ; she went up to Reine, and clasped her
white arm round her neck; she laid her sweet face
against the cold face that was to know light and warmth
never more ; she kissed the beautiful brow.
"I understand you, Reine," she said. "You are
trying to seem hard and cold to me ; you are pretending
that you are not glad, you are wishing to make me be¬
lieve that my happiness is a matter of indifference to
you. Ah, Reine ! you will not succeed. I know how
dearly you love me; I know that in the depth of your
heart you are well pleased at my happiness. I under¬
stand my Reine, my beautiful, proud, stately sister. No
one knows her better. And I understand how much
love and true tenderness lies underneath that proud
manner."
For one moment the touch of those warm, sweet
lips softened her. She laid her hand 011 the gentle
head.
" Poor Belle ! " she murmured. " Poor, gentle
Belle! "
" Why do you call me poor ? " asked Belle, with a
bright smile. " I am richer—at least, I think so—than
any one else in the whole wide world."
Those words were quite sufficient. The gleam of
tenderness died out of Reine's heart, never to shine
there again. She drew back from the soft caress of
those tender arms.
178
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
" How sentimental you are, Belle," she said. " Senti¬
ment always seems to me so absurd."
Belle merely laughed. She was accustomed to
Reine's changes of mood ; they never troubled her, or
affected the sweet, contented disposition.
" IIow much, after all, Reine, I owe to you ! If I
had not come to England with you, I should never have
seen Eric."
" Eric is all the world to you now, I suppose ? " said
Reine, with a sneer.
But the sneer was lost on the happy girl. She
thought only of the words.
" He is more than all the world, indeed," she replied.
" But, Reine, did you never suspect that he loved me r
Did it never occur to you?"
" Do you suppose I interested myself to such an
extent in Mr. Chilvers as to think of his probable love
affairs ? Had I done so, I should never have thought
he was falling in love with you."
" Mamma was surprised ; and, Reine,'the only little
cloud in my sky is this ; I am afraid she does not ap¬
prove of it."
" What makes you think so ? " asked Reine, with
sudden interest.
" She seemed so cold and so uninterested ; she
never even kissed me, or wished me happiness. All
that she said was: ' I have nothing to say about it,
child ; be happy in your own way.' That was not very
encouraging, was it, Reine ? "
" Madame is not demonstrative," replied Reine,
coldly. " I must go. So you love him, Belle, with all
your heart ? Say the words over again."
" I do love him, with all my heart," repeated Belle ;
and then Reine, without another word, swept away.
She did not know how to meet him. The bell would
soon ring for lunch, and then she must be herself, or he
would know how the news affected her
He should never have that triumph, she said to her¬
self—never ! He should not know that he had had
power to drive the color from her face, the light from
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
179
ber eyes, and all trace of happiness from her heart. He
should not know that life had lost all its charm for her;
that the news of his love for and his marriage with
another had power almost to take the life from her—he
should never know it.
She went to her room, and called her maid.
"I am looking ill this morning," she said; "you
must make me look as well as you can."
The maid, who rejoiced in the name of Mary Pin-
thorn, promised to do her best, and it was soon accom¬
plished.
There was a faint touch of something, that gave the
most delicate and exquisite bloom to the fair face ; there
was a bright line drawn under the eyes, that changed
their haggard expression into one of dreamy splendor.
It was wonderful to see the white lips in that exquisitely
colored face.
" You must do something here," said Reine, im¬
patiently, touching them with her fingers. " I cannot
go down stairs with lips like these."
There was another touch, magical in its effect, and
then the lips were red as any rose.
" Now, be careful with my dress," said Reine. " I
want to look as nice as I can."
A dress of shining white material threw a gleam
over her, and Pinthorn, anxious to please, asked:
" Shall I bring you some blush roses to-day, miss ? "
She had asked the question simply thinking that
her young lady preferred them to any other flowers';
she was not prepared for the effect. Reine looked
around quickly, with a flushed face.
" Do not mention them to me again," she cried. " I
detest them. I will never wear them again."
" Well, there is no accounting for caprice," said the
maid to herself ; and in that she was right.
Reine was satisfied at last ; she seemed by magic to
have recovered her brilliant bloom, her exquisite color¬
ing. There was no pallor, no white ghastly despair in
the beautiful face upon which she gazed.
" He will not think that I am dying for love of
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
him," she said to herself. " I shall conquer yet. They
shall never know what I have suffered."
So Keine, radiant and beautiful as ever, came out
from her room. She met Belle, and smiled in the girl's
sweet face.
" There is one question more I wished to ask you,"
she said. " When are you going to be married ? "
" In October, I think, Reine ; but the time is not
arranged yet. It will be then, I think."
" There is time for much to happen before October,"
thought Reine. " Time does wonders ; it may befriend
me."
CHAPTER XL.
" i must be generous to forgive that."
Eric had felt some little dread of meeting Reine.
" I cannot bear to meet that pained look in her
beautiful face," he thought. " There never was anything
so unfortunate in this world. If she had only taken a
fancy to Brandon, how happy we might all have been ! "
The bell rang for luncheon at last, and he knew they
must meet. He had done nothing wrong, but he shrank
like a coward from seeing her.
It was a relief greater than he could describe to find
her in the dining-room, looking more brilliant, more
beautiful than ever. She was talking gayly to Lord
Brandon, and Eric's heart rose at the sight.
"Could I be mistaken?" he thought. "It is not
possible that she could love me and yet be so happy.
I must have been mistaken."
Yet he felt sure there had been no mistake.
" She intends me to forget all about it," he thought
again ; ■' and I'shall only be too glad."
She did not appear to notice him when he entered
A WO MAN'S TEMPTATION.
the room. She went on, laughing and talking, in¬
coherently enough, if the truth be known, but no one
knew how her heart beat and her brain whirled. Out¬
wardly she was calm enough.
" I have been so anxious over you," Lord Brandon
was saying, " and how I blame myself for it."
"Why were you anxious ?" she asked, laughingly.
" Because I thought you looked so ill ; but I do not
know that I ever saw you more brilliant—I dare not
say beautiful ; you would be cross with me,"
" Certainly I should."
Then she took her place at the tabje, and Lord Bran¬
don, more enchanted than ever, followed her. Then,
for the first time she appeared to see Eric. She smiled
at him in the most careless and unconcerned fashion.
" I am right about the weather," she said, gayly.
"You thought it would rain; I knew it would not.
You are wrong, and I am right."
"You are always right," said Lord Brandon, with a
bow ; and, to his astonishment, she found no fault with
the compliment.
After luncheon was over they went out, each intent
on his or her particular amusement. Eric was talking
to Lord Arncourt, and Reine went up to him.
" I am behind the rest of the world with my con¬
gratulations," she said ; let me offer them now."
It was Eric who looked conf-used, not Reine.
"You are very kind," he said ; and Lord Arncourt,
thinking they might speak more at their ease in his
absence, went away.
"Thank Heaven," said the master of Neversleigh,
" for one thing ; my plans have harmed no one. Reine
does not care for him, and I was sorely afraid she did."
" You are very kind," replied Eric.
She laughed carelessly.
"Yes, I think myself that I am very good-natured,
considering how completely you had kept me in the dark.
You had quite ignored me. I must be generous to for¬
give that."
" I am only surprised that it should be so," said Eric,
182
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
simply. " I thought every one must see how clearly I
loved Belle."
"You need not give me a lover's rhapsody," she
said, impatiently. "I never saw any particular sign of
love either with you or Belle ; that, of course, is not my
business. Like all the rest of the world, I wish you
happiness, Eric, and have no doubt but that in a few
years you will play a very respectable Darby to Belle's
Joan. Now let us talk sense, and forget love."
" Love is sense," replied Eric, with a smile—he was
so entirely relieved to find that she took it so quietly.
He did not know quite what he had feared ; she was far
too proud for any complaints, for any murmurs—too
proud even to let her love be guessed at. What, then,
was there to fear? He did not know ; the only thing
he felt sure of was that it was an indescribable relief to
find her so seemingly free from care.
"Yet, last night," he thought to himself, "she looked
so ghastly, so despairing; surely I cannot have dreamed
it all."
Ide watched her during the day, for it seemed to
him that his senses must have deceived him. As though
she had guessed that he would do so, she played her
part to perfection. She was the graceful mistress of the
gay revels. She talked to others of the engagement
and marriage that was to be. The gossip, par excellence,
Miss Braderniss, came to her with a face full of wonder.
" Dear Miss Arncourt, is this story about the
marriage true?" she asked. "Mr. Chilvers and Miss
de St. Lance, I mean ? "
" Perfectly true," replied Reine, whose well-tutored
face betrayed no surprise.
" I am so astonished. Do you know that I—all of
us, in fact—thought it was to you that Mr. Chilvers was
engaged."
She bore it, and smiled. The wordssmote her heart
with the most terrible pain, but she gave no sign.
"You, and all of you," she repeated, mimicking
Miss Braderniss' accent, "were mistaken, you see."
" Still it would have been very appropriate—Lord
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
Arnconrt's daughter and his heir. You would not have
been obliged to change your name. Besides, to my
mind, you are so much more beautiful than Miss de S.t.
Lance, I cannot think how it was he did not fall in love
with you."
Reine raised her head proudly. It was one thing
to hear such matters lightly discussed, and another to
ponder them in her own heart.
" I do not see that you have any right to discuss the
question," she replied, haughtily. " Mr. Chilvers and
Miss de St. Lance have pleased themselves ; I shall do
the same. There need be no comment upon it."
" Oh, no—certainly not," replied the obsequious gos¬
sip. " At the same time, it does seem strange, does it
not ? "
" What seems strange?" asked Reine, impatiently.
It was torture to her to hear this girl discuss that
which to herself she could hardly admit. " What seems
strange ? "
" That Mr. Chilvers should not have liked you the
best. We all thought he did,"
" That merely shows you are all wanting in pene¬
tration. Pray, Miss Braderniss, do not let us discuss
the matter ; it does not interest me."
She knew the sharp, shrewd eyes were fixed upon
her face ; she knew that the insatiable gossip would be
only too delighted to note any change there and to tell
afterward how " poor dear Miss Arncourt " looked. No
one should have that triumph over her.
" To tell the truth," she continued, laughingly, " I
am glad we are going to have a wedding. I have not
seen a regular English wedding yet. But pray do not
tell any one I said that, Miss Braderniss ; people will
think I am so childish."
She knew perfectly well that the lady gossip would
repeat to a circle of admiring friends how glad Miss
Arncourt was—the very impression she wished to go
abroad, and she had taken the surest method of spread¬
ing it.
All that day, though each hour seemed to her an
184
A IVOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
age, she was brilliant, gay and beautiful • she was the
life of the whole party. Each hour Eric wondered more
and more, while Lord Brandon fell more deeply and
hopelessly in love.
But when the night came she was exhausted ; the
strain upon her nerves had been, too great; she had
overtaxed her strength. Alone in her own room the
mask she had worn fell from her, even as the rouge
washed from her face.
" How long is it to last, and how am I to bear it ? "
she asked herself. "Could I spend years in such a man¬
ner ? Could I pass my whole life so ? "
" No," was the answer of her own heart.
The time would soon come when she would tire of
playing a part; when the passionate nature and de¬
spairing love would rise in hot rebellion ; and what—
she asked herself in despair—what was to become of
her then ?
She did not know. Suddenly her own words recur¬
red to her ; " Much might happen before October ? "
She repeated the words over and over again. She
had no particular meaning ascribed to them in her
own mind.
" Much might happen," but she did not say to her¬
self what the meaning might comprise; accident, sick¬
ness, sorrow, death.
" Men have changed their minds before now," she
said, " in less time than that—and women, too. Eric
may prove faithless ; Belle may change ; a thousand
things may happen. They are not married yet."
And that was the first whispering of the evil spirit
to her, the first temptation.
The same evening Lord Arncourt found himself by
the side of Madame de St. Lance. She was looking
pale and anxious.
" I have hardly found time to offer my congratula¬
tions yet, madame," he said ; " they are very sincere
ones. Your daughter will be a happy girl."
" I hope so," replied madame, in a low voice ; " but I
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
took your side of the question, Lord Arncourt. I would
far rather that he had married Reine."
" Why ? " asked my lord.'
And the strangeness of her reply did not strike him
until long afterward.
. " Because—Reine—loved him, I believe."
"Nay," replied Lord Arncourt, gently; "it is not
so. I found that we were both mistaken. Reine was
and is perfectly indifferent; -I have ample proof of
that."
CHAPTER XLI.
"could you ever have loved me ? "
A beautiful autumn evening, and the whole house¬
hold in Neversleigh are on the lawn to enjoy its bright¬
ness ; it is neither daylight nor moonlight, but the warm
fragrant gloaming lies over the land ; the flowers are
asleep, the birds are silent, the stately swans have found
their nests the stars are beginning to appear ; the air is
so balmy, so sweet, so full of rich odors, that it was inn
possible to rest indoors while it invited one out.
Lord Brandon had left Neversleigh. He had made
.Miss Arncourt another offer, and she had refused him ;
not laughingly this time—her eyes seemed open to the
pain of rejected love—but with kindly words and kindly
looks.
He had taken fresh hopes from that which was in
reality a sign how hopeless his love must be. Miss
Braderniss, and, in fact, the whole relay of visitors had
left, and they were not expecting afresh party. Madame
had expressed a wish that there should be at least two
days between the going of one party and the coming of
another. Reine objected. There was nothing she
dreaded so much as being alone to the torture of her
own thoughts; but Lord Arncourt was of madame's
opinions.
i86
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
" Fresh visitors require fresh arrangements ; it is
better to comply with madame's wish, Reine."
Reine yielded with the same indifferent grace she
displayed now over everything; nothing interested her
deeply, or interested her long.
"I must endure it," she thought; " I shall have to
look on while Eric goes in raptures, and Belle looks
sedate. I hate them ; but the end is not here yet—
much may happen before October."
On this evening, madame, Belle, Reine, Lord Am-
court, and Eric, were all on the lawn together. For
the first time the conversation turned upon the wedding
that was to take place in October.
Lord Arncourt was beginning to recover from his
o o
disappointment. After all, Reine, with her brilliant
beauty, would do far better, perhaps, than by marrying
his heir.
Then Eric was so happy, and Belle so beautiful in
her love, he could not keep up any show of reserve
about the matter. Reine evidently was perfectly indif¬
ferent. And on this beautiful evening, when the world
was all fair and smiling, Lord Arncourt felt more cheer¬
ful than usual, and, longing to make others happy,
began to talk about the wedding.
" We shall not have much time for preparation," he
said. " Belle, you must be married in a style befitting
my own daughter. You will, of course, be married
here. This is your home."
"You are very kind, Lord Arncourt," replied the
girl. " There is one favor I should like to ask over my
—my marriage."
He looked admiringlv at her sweet, gentle face.
" What is it ?" he replied. " If it is in my power it
is granted before you ask."
" It is that Reine shall be my bride-maid. I do not
want any others. But we have been sisters all our
lives."
" You must ask Reine herself. She is sure to say
'yes,' " he replied.
Belle looked at Reine. She affected not to have
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION. ^7
heard one word, but wgs watching the light deepen on
the lake.
" Ask her, Eric," said Belle.
And with every one looking at him he was obliged,
against his own will, to comply.
She listened to him quietly, she looked up at him
steadily. Her heart was beating with a pain that knew
no limit. The sting of jealousy almost maddened her.
" Belle wishes me to be her bride-maid," she re¬
peated ; " it is only natural. I can have no objection.
We are sisters, you know."
Though the proud lips never trembled, and the
beautiful face remained the same, there was something
in the tone of her voice that filled his heart with vague,
unreasoning fear. They discussed some details of the
marriage, then Reine, driven to the extremity of pain,
rose suddenly from her seat.
" I see some glow-worms," she said, " I must go
and watch them."
She was so capricious, so changeable, so variable,
that none of them thought it strange. She went away,
and the conversation between the others was resumed.
Then, for the first time, Lord Arnconrt spoke of the
handsome dowry that he intended to give Belle. She
kissed his hand, raising her sweet face to his, and
telling him how grateful she was for all his kindness.
Madame was the first to fancy that the night was grow¬
ing chill ; she went in, and after a few minutes Belle
followed her. Then Lord Arncourt felt inclined for a
cigar.
" Where is Reine ?" he asked, suddenly.
" She has wandered after the glow-worms."
" Eric, tell her it is growing late."
He went down the long alley where he had seen the
flutter of her dress, but she was not there.
" Reine ! " he called, but there was no reply. He
saw the gate open that led to the fernery, and passed
through it.
She was sitting out in the starlight among the ferns,
i88
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
and one glance at her face showed him how bitterly
she had been weeping, lie would not notice it.
She asked him to sit down for a few minutes.
" I like this old fernery by moonlight," she said.
" Oh, Eric! when this fair home is yours, and no
longer mine, will you let me visit these old nooks and
corners ?"
" It will always be your home, Reine ; nothing can
prevent that," he replied.
She shook her head sadly.
" It will not be mine," she said, " when you bring a
wife here to rule as mistress."
" My dear Reine! As though Belle could have
any interest apart from yours ; your home would always
be hers, and her home would always be yours. Is it
not so ?"
She made him no answer; she was looking intently
at the pale light on the ferns.
" I never thought, when we both came home here,
that Belle, would, some future day, be Lady Arn-
court."
" I cannot say the same thing," he replied, laugh¬
ingly. " I fell in love at once."
" That is strange, too. 1 do not understand those
sudden loves and sudden hates."
" If ever you love yourself, it will be after the same
fashion," he said.
"Eric," she cried, "we have always been good
friends ; will you answer me one question ?"
"I will answer just as many as you choose to ask,"
"You say you loved Belle at first sight; now,
remember, I am only asking out of curiosity, if you had
never seen her at all, do you think you could ever have
loved mc ? "
He was too much astonished for a few minutes to
make any reply. Her dark eyes were fixed on his face.
"Remember," she said, " it is only from curiosity
that I ask ; should you ever have fallen in love with me
if you had not seen Belle ? Look at me frankly—an¬
swer me frankly."
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
He did look at her ; her beautiful face was quite
calm.
"It is such a strange question, Reine," he replied.
" Never mind about its being strange. What I can
ask, surely you can answer. Tell me—I repeat it—if
you had never seen Belle, would you have loved me ? "
He looked at her steadily, critically, calmly.
" You are very beautiful," he replied ; "very grace¬
ful,' winning, and charming ; next to Belle, I like you
better than any one else in the world. Yes, I think—I
believe that if I had never seen her, I should have fallen
in love with you."
" That is frankly answered," she said ; and from
the calm face, the calm, gentle voice, he could not tell
whether she was pleased or not.
"We will go in now," she said, gently. "I do not
know that I have ever seen so many glow-worms ; how
pretty they are, in the green leaves. Papa is smoking
•—even at this distance I can detect the odor of his
cigar."
CHAPTER XLII.
a life of torture.
It was a life of torture that commenced now for
Reine Arncourt. Day by day her love for the man Who
preferred another increased; it seemed to feed on what
should have starved it.
All restraint on the young lovers was now removed.
They spoke openly of their approaching marriage ;
their plans and arrangements were freely discussed.
Every one seemed interested in them. Eric was so
popular ; Belle so dearly loved. They seemed to have
an atmosphere of happiness and brightness always
about them ; and- Reine's love, Reine's despair, be¬
came greater as she witnessed it.
jgo A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
The Spartan boy was nothing to her ; she bore far
greater pains, and concealed them so adroitly that no
one ever knew of them.
There were times when she smiled and talked while
her heart seemed breaking ; for even as there is no
fury like a woman scorned, so there is no anguish like
that of unrequited, unacknowledged love. There can
be no rest, no peace, no calm, no serenity, no hope, no
happiness, where the soul is given up to the empire of
so mighty a passion.
Their love was so innocent, so graceful, so like a
beautiful poem read aloud, madame's face relaxed as
she watched them ; it seemed to lose its sternness and
its fear.
Lord Arncourt enjoyed being with them ; the very
sight of their happiness made him young again.
They were privileged beings, too, these happy lovers ;
they were allowed long walks in the gloaming, they
were allowed rambles in the woods, and no one ques¬
tioned them as to where they had been.
Unhappy Reine would see them leave the house.
She would watch the light on Eric's face, the quiet,
shy happiness, the deep, tender love in Belle's eyes, and
her heart would grow warm with anger, her soul rise
in hot rebellion against her fate.
Then, to make matters worse, Lord Arncourt sent
for her one day, to consult her as to what his wedding
present to Belle should be. It was something to stand
there, with jealous love burning her very heart away,
and talk over what Belle liked best. It was terrible
torture to her, but she bore it with a heroism worthy of
a better cause.
They discussed the -matter fully. Lord Arncourt
wished to make them a magnificent present.
"Under any circumstances I should have given Eric
something worth having; as it is, I wish him particu¬
larly to feel that I am pleased."
" How, papa ? I do not quite understand you."
Lord Arncourt laughed.
" You see, Reine, I had other plans for him, and he
A WOMAN'S TEMPTA TJON.
knows it. I want him to understand that I do not feel
in the least hurt or annoyed that he did not carry them
out."
" What plans were they, papa ? "
Now Lord Arncourt was accustomed to obey Reine,
She had by far the stronger will of the two. In this
particular instance he would far rather not have answered
her ; but the habit of obedience was strong upon him.
" Plans, my dear, respecting you. I thought it
would be such an excellent thing if my daughter and
my heir could marry."
Her face never lost its color, nor her eyes their
steady calm, as she looked at him.
" I could have told you that was an absurd plan,
papa; it could not possibly answer."
Looking at her calm face, Lord Arncourt believed
her most implicitly.
" It is useless to direct Cupid's arrows," he said,
laughingly. " It is better, without doubt, as it is. Rut
what of this service of plate and these jewels, Reine ?
Suppose that we for once commit a great extravagance
—I will give the plate, and you the jewels."
Calmly, as though the deep rest and peace of her
heart were centered in each word, she discussed the
matter with him. He knew nothing of the storm that
raged within, or the tempest that seemed to overwhelm
her, of the shock of pain that every word of his caused
her.
She listened to the end, when Lord Arncourt leaned
back in his chair, with a contented smile.
" They will be very happv, Reine will they not ?
And when they are once married I shall hope to see
madame looking gayer and brighter than she has done
of late."
To which Reine made no reply. Madame's looks
were of no consequence now to her.
" I almost wish," continued Lord Arncourt, "that
Eric would consent to make Neversleigh his home. I
think I shall ask him to do so."
She raised her eyes calmly to his.
192
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
" Live here with his wife after they are married, do
you mean ?"
" Yes," replied Lord Arncourt; " I think it would
be more pleasant and lively for us all. I shall speak to
him about it to-day. Now, Reine, I thank you for your
patient attention, and you may go, my dear. The
steward is here, and I shall be engaged busily for the
next two or three hours."
She went away, rage in her heart, envy, hate, jealousy
in her soul, longing to be freed from the restraint of all
human presence, where she could give full and free vent
to the angry passions that surged over her as rolling
seas over the shore.
" How am I to bear it ?" she asked herself. Then
a shadow came between her and the sunshine. Look¬
ing up, she saw the sweet, serene-looking face of Belle.
" Reine, I was looking for you, darling. Will you
come into my room ? Those patterns of silk have ar¬
rived, and I want you to help me choose."
Reine knew that the silks had been sent for. An
angry flush rose to her face.
" I am no judge of silk," she said. "Consult some
one who has more taste."
" That would be impossible," replied Belle, laughingly.
"You may be, as you say, Reine, no judge of silk;
but you can judge of what will look best for your little
sister on her wedding-day."
And Belle's sweet face flushed. She stole one arm
round Reine's neck.
" You will not mind helping me to choose that, will
you Reine ?"
She would have resisted, she would have turned
round with some sharp,'angry word, but the touch of
that gentle arm restrained her.
" I shall not be of much use," she said, ungraciously ;
" but I will come if it pleases you."
She went, and to her surprise found a little com¬
mittee of taste assembled in Belle's pretty room. Eric
stood looking with a most amused smile at the glittering
piles of silk. Madame's face wore a grave and almost
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
193
anxious expression. She held in her hand a costly
fabric—white brocade, with satin flowers.
She looked up anxiously as the two girls entered the
room, her face cleared, as it always did, at the sight of
Reine.
" I am glad you have come, Reine," she said. " We
want the benefit of your taste. I prefer this to the
others. What do you think ? "
She bent her face over the rich brocade, so as to hide
its burning blushes from Eric. She was surprised to
see him there.
"This reminds me of a picture I have seen some¬
where," he said, "cabled ' Choosing a Wedding Dress.'
What do yog think of all this splendor, Reine ?"
She could not have spoken to him had it been to
save her life. Her whole heart was filled with the
misery of her unhappy love and rage against him. She
made some remark to madame, who looked at Belle with
a complacent smile.
" She would look very nice in this brocade ; it would
suit her better than silk ; do you not think so, Eric ?"
" I think she would look beautiful in any dress," he
replied. As though the thought of Belle in her wedding-
dress was an ecstatic idea, he bent down and kissed her ;
kissed the sweet, blushing face, the white eyelids, the
fresh, ripe lips.
" I beg your pardon, Belle," he said, laughingly , " I
could not help it. The very thought of you in your wed¬
ding-dress bewildered me."
They turned round suddenly at the sound of a closing
door. Reine had disappeared.
" She has not told me what she thinks," said ma¬
dame ; " but Reine never did take sufficient interest in
dress."
They thought no more of her ; they knew nothing
of the terrible storm that that gentle, half-laughing;
caress had aroused in her. She went out from them
like one possessed ; she went to her own room and took
a black lace mantilla from the wardrobe ; she folded it
round her so that any one meeting her might think the
194
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
was going out for a stroll ; then she hastened out into
the grounds.
" I should die if I stayed in the house," she cried.
" I must go where there is perfect freedom."
She hurried through the pleasure-grounds, through
the coppice, and into the woods. No human being was
near, but the birds were soon startled by the passionate
cries of a broken heart, cries that fell freely and clearly
on the soft, sweet air, and seemed to rise to the very
face of the blue heavens—bitter, passionate cries, that
took with them the burden of a most unhappy soul.
" I cannot bear it," she said to herself. " I cannot
bear it any longer. I have borne.as much as'I could."
She lay sobbing on the ground, where she had flung
herself in the frenzy of her grief.
What strange thought had come to her in the green
leafy solitude ? What strange idea ? For suddenly she
clasped her white hands, and raised them to heaven.
" Not that ! " she cried. " I am not wicked enough
for that."
But after a time she grew silent, the passionate
cries, the bitter sobs died away—the idea had taken
possession of her.
CHAPTER XLII1.
" i wish she were dead."
Reine could not bear it. Had she been wise, pru¬
dent, or sensible, she would have told her father all,
and would have asked him to take her away : but her
pride was too great for that. She preferred any torture
rather then that any human being should know that
the flattered and beautiful Reine Arncourt, who had so
many lovers at her feet, loved in vain—had given her
heart to one who did not in the least value her gift ; to
one who would not accept it, but was on the point of
marrying some one else. She would rather have killed
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
herself than have it known. More than once the tempta
tion to take her own life had been almost too strong
for her.
But then she had thought of what would follow her
death. A few months' mourning, and then she would
be forgotten. They would benefit, not lose by her
death. There would be no one then to share with
them the great inheritance—her death would simply
enrich them.
" Besides," she said to herself, " I should know no
rest ; I could not even sleep in my grave if they were
living, loving, happy."
No, death would never serve her purpose—it would
not cause them to suffer.
Then a violent, unreasoning hatred of Belle came
over her. But for her—this alien to her name and her
race, this stranger who was simply there through her
father's mistaken kindness—but for her this would not
have happened.
" I might have been happy," she thought. " He
would have loved me—he said so himself—he would
have loved me if he had never seen her. I ought to
hate her. I do hate her. She comes here to my father's
house a stranger, and she wins from me the prize I
would give my life to possess. She is nothing to us ;
she has no claim upon us. It is only by my father's
mistaken kindness that she is here. Yet she might
have taken the whole of the fortune, the estate, the in¬
heritance—she might have taken all I had if she would
only have left me Eric."
She hated her with a fierce, virulent hatred as time
wore on, and the frenzy of her jealous love, her jealous
madness increased.
She would have done any injury to her rival that lay
in her power; she would gladly have seen her dead—
she wished her dead.
" I wish she were dead," was a constantly recurring
phrase.
She had come to that pass where there is no more
hope of peace or calm, where ideas of right and wrong
ig6
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION
become confused, where she lost all thought of good¬
ness, of self-control, of virtue. She forgot all about
rewards and punishment, the anger of God, the ven¬
geance on sin. She thought of nothing except that she
loved Eric with all the strength and fervor of her despair¬
ing soul, and that she hated Belle with the same in¬
tensity.
She might have been happy. This one great gift
for which she craved was not given her, but all other
things were. She had riches, wealth, honor, position,
rank, and beauty. She might have been most happy, but
that she yielded heart and soul to a master passion.
She might have been content with the good things that
yet remained to her, but between herself and content
there was a deep, impassable gulf.
She tried, before others, to control this violent hate ;
but her silence, the sullen gloom on her beautiful face
whenever she found herself with the object of her
hatred, told her secret.
Belle at first thought she must be mistaken, then
she feared that by some inadvertent word she had
offended Reine ; finally, she wondered and grieved until
wondering seemed useless. Then, one morning, finding
Reine alone in the drawing-room, she went to her, and
bent caressingly over her.
" Reine," she said, gently, " have I been so unfortu¬
nate as to displease you ?"
Coldness and gloom seemed to fall like a vail over
that beautiful face,
" I have said nothing of the kind," she replied
haughtily.
" No, my darling, you have not said it ; but you
have looked it, Reine. You look so angrily at me : you
seem as though my very presence and the sound of my
voice were displeasing to you ; yet how can it—how
can it be ? "
Tears fell from the gentle eyes, and the sweet lips,
quivering like the lips of a grieved child, would have
moved any one less proud and cold than Reine
" I do not see any need of this ridiculous scene,
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
197
Belle. What do you want ? What do you expect ? I
cannot go into raptures over you. You have raptures
enough?" •
" But you seem so unlike yourself," said the poor,
perplexed girl. " I cannot understand you at all."
"Then do not try. It seems tome of very little
consequence whether you understand me or not."
" But, Reine, we have always been like sisters,"
cried Belle ; and her sorrowful eyes seemed to plead
for a renewal of the old love.
" You have new claims on your affections, so have
I," was the cold reply.
Belle looked sadly at her.
" Reine," she said at last, slowly, " does my marriage
displease you ? "
All the pride and fire of her nat-ure seemed to flash
in her face, her eyes rained scorn, her lips curled in
direst contempt,
" Your marriage ! " she repeated, haughtily ; "what
has that to do with me ? Do you suppose every one in
the world thinks so much of that nonsense as you do
yourself ?"
" No," replied Belle, humbly ; " I do not think so.
But you, my sister, surely you take some interest in my
welfare ?"
" Very few people interest me," she said.
Then seeing the pained expression in the young
girl's face, she hastened to add :
" Do not get ridiculous ideas into your mind, Belle.
The time has long passed when we shared each other's
thoughts and cares. I have many that you could not
even understand. Pray confine youi attentions to
Eric and your wedding; do not let them wander to me
again. I do not like being teased."
" Ah, Reine, you will never love me as in the old
days," said Belle, with a deep sigh.
Then, seeing that her presence only annoyed and
irritated Reine, Belle went away.
It was well for her peace of mind that she did not
see the glance that followed her. The hatred, the ven-
198
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
geance, the cruelty of it would surely have startled her
—might, perhaps, have warned her.
" Baby face, baby manners, baby ways," murmured
Reine ; "and yet in the race she has beaten me."
From that moment it seemed as though her hatred
increased. She hated the unoffending girl with a fierce¬
ness not to be told in words. Eric must have remarked
it, but that just then he was often absent from Never-
sleigh.
Madame seemed engrossed in her own bitter thoughts ;
but Lord Arncourt could not help seeing that Reme
was changed toward Belle.
" My dear Reine," he said to her one morning,
nervously, " has there been any little coolness between
yourself and Miss de St. Lance ?"
" Not that I am aware of, papa," was the careless
reply.
" I fancied that I had perceived something of the
kind. I am glad it is not the case. I suppose the very
best of friends have little coldnesses ; but Belle and you
should always be like sisters."
" You all seem to be in a conspiracy for worshiping
Belle," said Reine, impatiently. "Worship as much as
you please, but, remember, papa, I am not one of the
adoring class at all."
Lord Arncourt was somewhat awed by his daugh¬
ter's imperious manner.
"I merely mentioned it, my dear; it was quite a
fancy of my own."
" I had no idea how completely a stranger could keep
the daughter of the house in the background," she said,
with a smile that was not pleasant to see. " You are so
anxious to worship Belle, I am forgotten."
Lord Arncourt looked up quickly. It was a relief
to him to see that she was smiling, even though he
thought the expression strange.
"My dear Reine ! you are not surely'jealous ?" he
cried.
" No, indeed, I am not! " she interrupted, and then
Lord Arncourt smiled again to himself.
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
l99
" She is vexed," he thought, •' because Belle is to be
married first. All young girls are slightly jealous of
each other, I suppose.''
It was unfortunate that he did not look for a deeper
cause than mere girlish jealousy. Much harm might
have been prevented had he been a shrewder man.
" I could not hate her more," thought Reine, as she
pondered over her father's words, "but she shall not
poison my life. She has broken my heart, but she shall
do no more."
September, with its harvests of golden grain, its
beautiful autumn foliage, had come at last, and the next
month they were to be married.
" Only six weeks more, and I shall call this little
hand mine," said Eric, as he sat one evening, by Belle's
side. Reine was near them.
" I am always frightened," she said, " when I hear
you speak so confidently."
" Are you, darling ? Why should you be? What
can part us now ? "
" Sickness or death," she replied, simply.
Reine looked up, with a quick, furtive glance.
Eric laughed.
" My dear, dismal prophetess! This time two
months you will be laughing to think how all your fore¬
bodings were vain."
And Reine turned aside, lest he should see her face
and read a secret there.
CHAPTER XLIV.
" it will never.be."
Eric had been to London for a week. He was busily
engaged in making purchases and arranging for his
wedding tour. His occupation delighted him, although
he felt annoyed at every duty and every movement that
kept him away from Belle.
200
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
He returned one bright, sunny afternoon, the second
week in September. He had met Lord Arncourt out
riding, and had hastily inquired if all were well at home.
" All except Belle," replied Lord Arncourt; " she
has not been well for the last few days."
" She did not tell me so when she wrote," replied the
young lover. " She has written to me every day, but
she did not tell me of ill-health.
" She did not like to make you anxious," said Lord
Arncourt, " There is nothing much the matter. Ma¬
dame told me she had fainted, and yesterday I thought
her very ill ; to-day they tell me she is better. In
all probability the poor child is anxious ; she will be
better soon."
"I hope to Heaven she will," replied Eric.. "You
will excuse me, my lord, I am sure, if I hurry on."
Lord Arncourt felt so perfectly at ease himself that
he only smiled at the young lover's eagerness.
" Ah, youth ! happy, eager youth !" he murmured,
as the quick, ringing gallop of the horse fell upon his
ear. " What would I give to be young and ardent once
more ! "
Eric rode on, the prey of a thousand wild thoughts.
His darling was ill, and had not told him !—ill, and he
was away from her ! With the rapidity of lightning all
her dismal forebodings rushed over him. What was it
she had said so short a time since ? " Sickness or •
death ! " Ah ! surely Heaven was too merciful for that;
his darling would never be taken from him. Surely
there was mercy in those bright blue skies. Then he
laughed aloud. How foolish he was ! If there had been
need or cause for anxiety, surely Lord Arncourt would
have told him so. But he had smiled; he would not
have smiled had Belle been in danger.
He galloped on. At the lodge gate he stopped, and
when the keeper came out, he said :
" Are they all well at the Abbey ? "
The man touched his hat.
" All quite well, I believe, sir."
" Thank Heaven ! There could not be anything
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
2o t
seriously wrong, or all the servants must have neard of
it."
Yet it seemed to him an age before he stood in the
entrance hall of Neversleigh. Then his first question
was :
" Where shall I find Miss de St. Lance ?"
Her maid was hastily summoned.
" My mistress has been ill," she said, with a courtesy,
" but she is better this afternoon. She is in the draw¬
ing-room."
" She expected me, of course ?" said Eric, impatiently,
not wishing to startle her.
" Yes, sir. But for that, I do not think Miss de St.
St. Lance would have left her room."
And Eric, without another word, hastened to the
drawing-room.
Long afterward he remembered how the sunshine
lay slanting on the hall floor, how the flowers seemed to
breathe perfume. Then he opened the door. When
was he to forget the sight. The sun shone full and
bright into the room, and its light seemed centered on
the white face of gentle Belle.
A couch had been drawn near the window, and she
lay on it. The sunshine, falling on her colorless face,
showed him how great was the change there—so
changed, so white, so wan, that he shrank back, startled,
shocked, frightened.
She saw him then, and a low cry came from her lips.
" Eric ! " she said, and the next moment he was
kneeling by her side—he had clasped her in his arms-
he was covering her with kisses.
" My darling Belle, you have been ill, and never told
me. If I had known, I should have returned beforethis."
"I did not want to cause you anxiety," she said. " I
am better now."
" Better, with that face ! Why, my darling, what has
been the matter, to change you so suddenly ?"
" Am I so changed ? " she asked, faintly. " Oh,
Eric, I am sore, sore afraid."
" Afraid of what, Belle ? Tell me,"
202
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION-
" I have felt so strangely ill; and then, you know,
all ray nervous fears and forebodings come over me so
strongly. Oh, Eric, Eric, my love, do you think I shall
have to leave you, after all ? "
He controlled the dreadful fear that overcame him,
as he would have done anything else for her sweet sake.
" Leave me ! No, my darling. You are over¬
anxious, and it has made you ill."
" I am not anxious, do believe me, Eric. Why
should I be ? But I feel strangely unlike myself. Why
do you call me changed ? "
" Because you have lost your beautiful color," he re¬
plied ; " but we will soon have it back."
The more he looked at her the more shocked he be¬
came at that terrible change. Her face in that one
week had grown thin, pale, and wan, with a terrible hag¬
gard expression, as one who had suffered great pain.
Her eyes looked larger and brighter, but the light in
them was of fever, not health. The lips were burning,
and the little hand he held in his own burned, too.
"How long have j'ou been ill, Belle?" he asked.
" Ever since you went away. And oh, Eric, I have
been so frightened—it seemed to me that I should
never get well. The very evening after you went away
I was taken ill with such a faint, terrible, cold, shiver¬
ing fit, my eyes burned, and my throat burned. I never
seem to have recovered from that faintness."
" What did madame say ? " he inquired.
" She is like you ; she thinks I am anxious. Oh !
Eric, do not think I am foolish. I feel so safe, now
that you are here again, I could lay my head on your
heart, and sleep forever."
" Have you seen a doctor, Belle ?" he asked.
"No ; I did not like. I have fought against my ill¬
ness hour by hour. It seems to me that if I am obliged
to have a doctor, I shall be really ill. I do not want to
give in yet."
" I shall insist upon it ; I shall ride over to Never-
stay, and fetch Dr. Grant myself. You will not oppose
me, Belle ? "
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
203
"No," she replied " I will do just as you wish."
He knelt down by her side, talking to her, trying to
cheer her, and he could not help noticing how she suf¬
fered from continual burning thirst.
"You should have some ice, Belle," he said.
" I have had some; but nothing really quenches my
thirst, Eric ; my throat always burns."
She seemed so weak, so ill, so unlike herself, that
Eric was distressed; still he tried his best to soothe her,
to cheer her; he told her of all he had been doing in
London; what preparations he had made for their wed¬
ding tour. He stopped abruptly, for she clasped her
arms round his neck, and buried her face on his breast.
" Do not say another word, Eric ! " she cried, with
a passionate burst of tears. " I cannot bear to listen to
you, for it will never be, my darling—never, in this wide
world. I shall have to die, and leave you."
He called for madame, and madame came. They
stood side by side near the girl's couch, looking down
on her colorless face. A faint hectic flush was begin¬
ning to come in it.
" I think, madame," said Eric, sternly, " you might
have told me about this."
" Belle was not willing," she said. " I wanted to
write some days ago."
" I am going to Neverstay at once. I insist upon
having a doctor called in. I cannot understand such
neglect."
"No one has neglected me," said Belle, gently;
" every one has been most kind to me; But I dreaded
seeing a doctor, lest he should confirm my fears, and
say that I was seriously ill."
But Eric was resolved that no time should be lost,
and he went for Dr. Grant at once.
204
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
CHAPTER XLV.
THE MIDNIGHT SURPRISE.
Two hours later, and Dr. Grant stood by Belle's
couch. He was a clever, shrewd man, well up in his
profession, fond of adopting the latest improvements,
quick to understand, but Belle's case puzzled him.
Madame, who stood by, wondered at his questions.
" Are any of your family consumptive, madame ? "
he asked first.
None that madame knew of ; she had never heard
of such a thing. The second question was :
" Has the young lady had any great trouble—any
severe mental shock—anything likely to distress her ? "
The answer was:
"No; on the contrary, she was exceedingly happy,
and had been busily engaged in preparing for her mar¬
riage with a gentleman to whom she was exceedingly
attached."
Then Dr. Grant looked slightly puzzled.
"The symptoms are really those of consumption,"
he said, musingly. " We must hope, after all, that rest
and time may restore her."
But long after he had left her, the doctor was
haunted by a vision of that sweet face and the large,
bright, questioning eyes. He was very thoughtful all
that day, and he sat until late at night studying the
contents of a large book.
Eric was waiting for him when he left Belle's room.
" What do you think of her? " he asked, quickly.
The doctor smiled at his eagerness.
"There is not much the matter," he replied. "A
good tonic, rest, and a little cheerful society will soon
set the young lady right again."
s? WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
205
I hope so. I thought her looking very ill. You
never saw her in health, doctor. I think this is the
first time you have seen her."
" It is the first time, and therefore I can hardly
judge how ill she is—how her looks have changed. She
had a brilliant color, I suppose, and having lost that,
you think she is very ill."
" She had the fairest bloom I ever saw on any face,"
said Eric ; " but it has all gone."
"It will soon return," said Dr. Grant. "And I
assure you, as far as I can see at present, you have
really no cause for anxiety—none in the world. Miss
de St. Lance will soon recover."
"Thank Heaven for that! To tell the truth, I
feared for her. Miss de St Lance has been so nervous
lately ; she has had a presentiment of coming sickness
and death, that grieved me very much whenever she
spoke of it,"
The doctor looked more grave.
" A presentiment of coming death ? That is strange,"
he said, " in the midst of wedding preparations ; still, it
may have been nothing but nervous fear."
Evidently Dr. Grant saw no need for anxiety. Just
as he left the hall, Reine passed through. She looked
at the doctor with some little curiosity ; he made a low
bow, and, evidently impressed with the young lady's
beauty, passed on.
" Eric," said Reine, " I did not know that you had
returned."
She held out her white hand to him, and looked with
winning cordiality in his face.
" I came home early this afternoon, Reine ; but I
was so very uneasy about Belle that I went at once to
Neverstay for a doctor."
The slightest expression of scorn passed over her
face.
"You are easily alarmed," she said, "I do not
think there is much the matter with Belle."
" She is dreadfully changed," he continued, sadly.
" I have always understood that lovers had peculiar
206 a WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
eyes," laughed Reine, "and now I believe it. /cannot
see any evidence of so great a change, Was that the
doctor who just passed out ? "
" Yes," replied Eric. " He asked if any of Belle's
family had been consumptive. Surely my darling can¬
not be under the shadow of that deadly disease ! "
" I do not think the De St. Lances are a healthy
race," said Reine, " if you ask my opinion ; but I never
heard anything about consumption."
" Perhaps I am over anxious," said Eric, with a
deep sigh,
" Lovers should be anxious," laughed Reine ; "they
have no right to be anything else. Do you consider
Dr. Grant clever ?"
" I should imagine so. He has the reputation of
being one of the cleverest men in this part of the country.
Reine, you will do all you can for Belle."
" Certainly I will," she replied, with what seemed
to him a singular smile. " I will do the best that lies
in my power. Do not look so anxious, Eric ; she will
get well."
Even Lord Arncourt looked very solicitous when he
was told that Dr. Grant had called.
" We must not have our pretty bride ill. That will
never do," he said. " How do you account for it
madame?"
" I cannot account for it at all," said madame, " Belle
never had a day's illness in her life before. I thought
her singularly strong and healthy."
The doctor's medicine came, and Belle seemed much
better after she had taken it. She was well enough to
walk out on the lawn, and Eric was delighted. Reine
laughed at him.
"Where are all your dismal thoughts now?" she
asked, and he was only too pleased to own himself
mistaken.
That same night Eric had a great surprise. The
whole household retired to rest at an early hour, and
Eric, after being in his own room for some time, found
himself quite unable to sleep. He remembered that he
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
207
had left in the library the second volume of a book that
amused him very much, and he determined to fetch it.
By the great clock in the corridor he saw that it was
after two.
" I must be very quiet," he thought, " or some of the
servants will raise an alarm of thieves."
He carried a light in his hand, but what was his
surprise to see a light under the library door ; for a
moment he was startled, thinking thieves must be there,
but the silence proved him mistaken. He opened the
door and entered the room. What was his surprise to
find Reine there, seated at the table reading so busily,
so deeply engrossed that she hardly heard him. She
looked up with a startled cry, and Eric laughed.
" Why, Reine, what are you doing here at this hour
of the night, or rather morning ? "
Her face flushed burning red -T she covered the book
that she was reading with her handkerchief.
"T could not sleep," she said, " so I thought I would
come down here."
" I am in search of a book," he said; " I could not
sleep either. What are you reading, Reine ?''
She looked up, evidently agitated.
" A book of my own," she replied. " I shall not
show it to you."
Eric laughed, but Reine trembled like a leaf on a
tree.
She rose from her seat, holding the covered book
tightly in her hand.
" Good-night," she said. " And, Eric, do not mention
having found me here ; I should not like it."
" I will not say one word about it, Reine, trust me."
But after she had quitted the room, he stood wonder¬
ing why she looked so pale, so agitated, so frightened.
Then he laughed to himself.
" I wonder what contraband volume Miss Reine had
found," he said. " She was quite alarmed lest I should
see it."
He would not have smiled if he had seen the title of
2O8
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
. the book Reine carried from the library to her own
room.
Once again that same night Eric was disturbed.
He fancied that he heard a slight creaking of the boards
in the long corridor ; then he laughed at himself for
being fanciful. As though any one would be prowling
about there at four in the morning; it was absurd to
suppose so.
Reine smiled when they met in the morning.
" You will not mention my night's adventure, Eric,"
she said. " I should not like papa to think that I go
prowling about the house after midnight in search of
something to read."
" We will keep each other's secrets," laughed Eric
But the laughter all died from his lips when madame
came down to breakfast. She brought a bad account
of Belle.
" She seems much worse this morning," said ma¬
dame. " Indeed I do not know what to make of her. I am
afraid the poor child is worse than we fancied. I am
really uneasy, Lord Arncourt."
Lord Arncourt was all kindness, all sympathy, all
consideration. What could be done ? Eric looked dis¬
mayed, Reine indifferent.
"I think," she said, " that you are all alarming your¬
selves without cause. Belle was much better yesterday,
she is not so well to-day. It is not likely that, as she is
out of health, she will never vary."
But madame was not to be comforted.
" She is worse than you imagine, Reine. I should
like Dr. Grant to see her."
" Of what does she complain ? " asked Lord Arn.
court, anxiously.
" Of strangely contradictory symptoms," replied ma,
dame ; " of burning thirst, of a tightening of the throat,
faintness that is so bad it almost resembles death "
" Is it low fever ? " asked Lord Arncourt.
" I have not had much experience in sickness," said
madame ; " but I cannot imagine low fever to be any¬
thing like this."
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
209
" I will go for Dr. Grant at once," cried Eric, and
he rose from the breakfast-table.
No one opposed him. Madame looked miserable,
Reine only smiled and nodded her head.
" You will laugh yourself in a few days' time, Eric,
to think how you went rushing all over the country in
search of doctors," she said. " You all look so wretched.
Madame has a fashion of looking at the dark side of every
thing."
But Eric did not even wait to hear the few last
words ; he hurried away, and left them to finish break¬
fast alone.
He was not long in galloping over to Neverstay.
" You must come at once, doctor," he said. " Miss
de St. Lance is very ill, and I am very anxious."
CHAPTER XLVI.
" who can be guilty of such cruelty ? "
Once more Dr. Grant stood by Belle's side, holding
the burning hand in his, and looking pitifully in the
white face. Her eyes were fixed on him, so large, so
bright, so full of pitiful questioning.
"You must tell me the truth, doctor," she said,
faintly ; " do not think it will frighten me. Am I going
to die ? "
He looked very gravely at her.
" Why do you ask me ?" he said.
" Because I feel so ill ; not only ill, but strange. It
can only be the shadow of death that is on me, and for
many long weeks I have felt that I was going to die.
You will tell me the truth ?"
"I would if I knew it," he replied ; "but my knowl¬
edge is but limited. I cannot say whether you are going
210
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
to die—I hope not ; but I can say this, that you are
certainly very ill."
Eric felt slightly puzzled when, after a time, the
doctor asked for a private interview with him.
" Pardon my abrupt speaking," said Dr. Grant, when
the two found themselves in the library together; " but
from your anxiety about her, I should imagine that you
were the gentleman who is about to marry Miss de St.
Lance. 1 have my own reasons, and they are grave
ones, for asking the question." Is it so ? "
" Yes," replied Eric ; " I hope to be married in Oc¬
tober."
" Miss de St. Lance is exceedingly ill. I thought it
better to speak to you. I am afraid of alarming madame,
who does not seem strong."
Eric's face grew white as death.
"You do not surely think she is in danger ! " he cried.
" She is certainly in a dangerous state, and I should
like to have advice—extra advice. I should like to tele¬
graph to London for Sir William Hailbury; he is the
cleverest physician I know."
"She is so ill as that! " said Eric, in despairing tone.
" Can you not give me one gleam of comfort, doctor ? "
" Life and death are in God's hands," was the grave
reply. " Sending for a physican is a matter of precau¬
tion. He may be able to suggest remedies that do not
occur to me. I candidly confess that Miss de St. Lance's
case puzzles me."
" Why does it puzzle you ? " asked Eric.
The doctor thought for a few minutes before reply¬
ing then he said :
" I do not remember that in the course of my practice
I have met with such strange symptoms before. I con¬
fess that alone I can hardly decide upon them; there¬
fore, I urge you to send for Sir William."
" Is she so very ill ?" asked Eric.
The sorrow in his voice touched the doctor's heart.
" I should advise you to lose no time," he said, " in
going to Neverstay and sending a telegram. I think
Sir William ought to be here to-night."
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
211
Without another word Eric went. To the last day
of his life he remembered his ride through sunshine and
bloom, while his own heart was aching with anxiety.
His beautiful, sweet, gentle Belle—how hard it
seemed how terrible hard ! Here the sun was shining
warm and bright, the flowers fair, the happy birds sing¬
ing on the trees, the air mild and sweet; yet she who
would have enjoyed it all was lying sick unto death.
No wonder the young lover's face was "so clouded and
sad.
He sent the telegram, and that night Sir William
Hailbury arrived. Dr. Grant was there to meet him.
By this time the whole household was aware of the
da'ngerous state the young lady -was in, and both grief
and sympathy were very great.
Lord Arncourt walked restlessly from room to room ;
madame sat with a troubled look on her worn face. The
two doctors met alone.
• " This is an urgent case., I suppose," said Sir William.
" I am afraid so," was the reply ; " you will judge
when you see the patient. Sir William, I am going to
ask you a strange favor. Wi'il you see her alone, form
your own judgment, and compare it with mine. You will
understand at once why I have asked you this." '
Sir William was quite willing ; then madame led
him to Belle's room. He was there some time. The
beauty, the sweetness, the touching circumstances of the
case, all gave him more than ordinary interest in his
young patient.
As question after question was answered, and one
detail after another of the case was laid before him, the
great physician's face grew grave. Then, when it was
over he went down to the library, and found Dr. Grant
waiting for him.
"Are we quite alone?" asked Sir William. "No
fear of being overheard, I trust ?"
" Not the least in the world," replied Dr. Grant.
He turned the key of the lock as he spoke, and the
two sat down in grave, solemn consultation.
" It is, as you said, Dr. Grant, a grave case. I know
212
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
no graver. I have come to a certain conclusion over it,
and am anxious to know if you have done the same."
" I have done so
"Then," interrupted Sir William, " the best thing
for us to do will be each to write down his own opinion,
and compare them."
Dr. Grant agreed. He took from his pocket a silver
pencil-case, and wrote a few lines on the back of an en¬
velope. Sir William did the same. Then each passed
the paper to the other. Each contained the same words.
" I find the patient suffering from the consequences
of an irritant poison, administered in minute doses."
When they had read it, the two gentlemen looked at
each other.
" It is a terrible thing," said Sir William. " Who
can be guilty of such cruelty ? It canTTot be accident : it
mu&t be design. What enemies can that fair creature
possibly have ? "
" I am as much puzzled as yourself," said Dr. Grant.
" I have been attending the family for some time, and I
do not think any member of it is more beloved than Miss
de St Lance."
" I have seen strange things in the course of
my practice," said Sir William. " I once knew a gentle¬
man poisoned by one of his own servants, in a similar
fashion, out of revenge for something that had been
said to him."
" I do not think there is a servant in this house that
would injure one hair of Miss de St. Lance's head : she
is dearly loved by all."
" I should imagine so," said Sir William. " She
seems a very amiable girl. Still, you see, Dr. Grant,
the poison must be administered by some one : it is im¬
possible that it can betaken accidentally, or by accident,
The doses are evidently very skillfully administered ;
they are not strong enough to prove fatal all at once,
but they are strong enough to keep the girl very ill."
" You do not think, then, that she is past recovery ?
said Dr. Grant.
"No ; it is found out just in time. Another dose
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION. 213
L
or two would not hurt her ; four would, in all probability,
prove fatal. They have certainly been most carefully
given ; the matter has been carefully studied. We
must at once interfere to prevent any more from being
given. The greatest caution will be necessary ; we
must say little, and watch. If our suspicions become
known, there will be no hope of discovering the offender."
" No," said Dr. Grant; " I can quite understand that,
At the least hint of discovery on our part the offender
would cease; we must try and find out who it is with¬
out saying a word. I am so much astonished myself
that I am hardly capable of forming a clear judgment.
What would you advise ? "
Sir William looked thoughtful.
" Do you know of any one who would benefit by her
death ? "
"No; she has no money herself. I have always
understqod that her family—a very noble one, I believe
—was ruined in the French Revolution. I cannot see
how any one would benefit by her death. Her young
lover, Mr. Chilvers, is devotedly attached to her. Unless
I felt sure of the symptoms, I should say we must be
mistaken ; that it could not possibly be true. I can see
no motive for it.
" Motives are very difficult matters to understand,"
said Sir William ; " but there must be a powerful one
at work here. As you know the family, Dr. Grant, tell
me, whom do you consider it would be better to tell ?
We must take some one in our confidence."
Dr. Grant looked at his companion.
" Lord Arncourt is no relation to Miss de St. Lance,"
he said ; " I should hardly imagine that he would be the
proper person to consult ; then madame, her mother,
does not look strong. I do not know whether you are
of my opinion, but I always fancy women are not to be
trusted in cases of this kind. Madame would be
frightened, or would betray us by some words carelessly
uttered. / think the best person to consult would be
Mr. Chilvers, Miss de St. Lance's lover. He is like a
son of the house ; he would give us the best advice."
214 * WOMAN'S TEMTTA TiOjV.
'»
" I think you are right," said Sir William. " Will
you ring the bell, and ask for him ? I hope he is a
man of good sense and judgment."
"You maybe assured of that," replied Dr. Grant.
" I know no man who would be more useful in such an
emergency."
Dr. Grant rang the bell, and when the footman
entered he told him to ask Mr. Chilvers to join them.
A few minutes afterward Eric entered the room, look¬
ing so pale and agitated that Sir William asked him what
was the matter.
" I am afraid," he replied, " that you have sent for
me to tell me bad news. Is it so ?"
" We have sent for you," said Sir William, " because
it is needful we should confide in some one over the
matter I have to mention to you. Mr. Chilvers, it is a
very grave one, and I must beg of "ou to give me your
word of honor that you will not mention it."
" Will you not take a seat, Mr. Chilvers ?" said Dr.
Grant. " We shall in all probability detain you some
time."
And Eric, all unconscious of what he was about to
hear, took a seat, looking with grave attention at the
doctors.
CHAPTER XLVIi.
"who am i to watch?"
"What we nave to say to you, Mr. Chilvers, is so
grave that I must preface it by asking your most earnest
attention. In the first place, you may believe most
implicitly what we have to say to you. It is perfectly
true—there can be no mistake or error in it—you must
convince yourself of that first of all."
Eric bowed.
" 1 shall have no difficulty in believing what you say
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
2I5
to me, Sir William," he replied. " I hope you do not
find Miss de St. Lance very ill."
" She is very ill, but I may tell you I have good
hopes of her life being spared. It is of Miss de St.
Lance I wish to speak to you. Tell me, do you think
she has any enemies ? "
Despite the gravity of the situation Eric smiled.
Enemies of that graceful, gentle girl, who had never
harmed any human being, who loved and was beloved
by every one ! What enemies could she have ?
" I do not understand your question," he replied :
"but I venture to say no human being ever gave Miss
de St. Lance an unkind thought. I can safely say that
she has no enemy in the wide world."
" Answer me another question," continued Sir
William. " Would any person benefit by her death ?
Think well before you speak."
" There is no need for me to think," replied Eric.
" Her death would not benefit any one. I should lose
all the world in losing her. She is madame's only
daughter. Miss Arncourt loves her dearly as though
she were her own sister. How could any one benefit
by her death ? It is impossible. Why do you ask me
so strange a question ? "
"You will understand soon," replied Sir William.
" Tell me one thing more—is Miss de St. Lance happy
herself ? Would she be likely, in any way, to injure
herself ?"
"No," replied Eric. "She is, I believe, most per¬
fectly happy. I love her very dearly, and she loves
me. She, like myself, has been looking forward with
great delight to our marriage. I honestly believe she
was one of the happiest girls in the world."
"Why do you say was?" asked the physician,
quickly.
" Because since her illness she has been depressed
and anxious—unlike herself, with a constant foreboding
of an early death on her."
" That is one of the symptoms of her malady," said
Sir William. "You know of nothing else ? "
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
"No. If she had a hope of recovery she would be
what she was before—one of the most cheerful, happiest
girls I ever met," replied Eric. "But what strange
questions, Sir William. Why do you ask them ? "
" I will tell you," said the physician gravely ; you
will be both shocked and terrified, but you must be
courageous, for on your efforts will depend, in great
measure, the solution of the mystery. After carefully
examiuing the symptoms of Miss de St. Lance's illness,
my friend, Dr. Grant, and myself have both arrived at
one conclusion—that is, she is being slowly poisoned
by the administration of some mineral poison, given in
such minute doses as slowly, but surely, to sap the
foundations of life, and destroy her."
Eric's face grew ghastly white ; then he laughed—a
dreary laugh, that was almost terrible to hear.
" You must be mistaken, Sir William," he cried out.
"It is quite impossible that what you say can be true."
" I expected you would say so ; I anticipated the
difficulty you would have in believing such a statement;
but, I pledge, you my word as a professional man, and
my honor as a gentleman, that it is true. Dr. Grant,
will you please corroborate my statement ? "
The doctor looked at Eric.
" It is perfectly true," he said. " I knew it yester¬
day, and that made me so anxious for Sir William's
advice. I thought at first that I must be mistaken ; I
paid the greatest attention to the details of the case,
but the greater my attention, the more sure I became
that the unhappy lady was being slowly poisoned."
They saw great drops of moisture standing on Eric's
brow, while his lips quivered with agitation.
"1 can hardly believe it," he said. " Is it not possi¬
ble, gentlemen, that there is some mistake? "
u I do not make such grave mistakes," said Sir
William. " Make up your mind, Mr. Chilvers, that,
terrible as the truth is, it is the truth, and there is no
evading it. Do not be afraid. With the help and
blessing of Heaven, we will save Miss de St. Lance,
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
217
and we will circumvent those who are seeking to take
her life."
" To take her life ! " repeated Eric. " It seems too.
terrible. I cannot credit it."
"You must help us," continued Sir William. "The
first thing I have to impress upon you is secrecy—the
most inviolable secrecy. If one word gets known, we
shall never discover the offender."
Eric made a desperate attempt to control himself.
He saw that the doctors were convinced of the truth of
what they were saying, and surely two such clever men
could not be mistaken. One might, two could not.
He must believe it, horrible as it was; yet who could,
who would seek to harm his beautiful, gentle Belle ?
" I will do all I can," he said ; but you must pardon
me if I seem helpless and confused. It is a terrible
blow to me."
" I can sympathize with you," said Sir William;
'but let me urge you to be brave, to try and collect
yourself ; for, remember, the fate of the lady you love
may depend in some measure upon your efforts. Sup¬
pose that now we were to make a sensation over our
discovery, to noise it abroad, the poisoner, be whom it
may, would immediately abandon his or her plans, Miss
de St. Lance might recover, and all for a time go well;
but some one is determined to take her life, as this
clearly proves. Who can tell when the attempt might
be renewed, or how it might end ? Do you not see the
danger of making our discovery public ? "
" Yes, I see it," replied Eric. " I will do my best.
I will give you my full attention, my most earnest help.
I was stunned at first, but now I can attend."
Sir William looked kindly at him. His face cleared,
his hands ceased to tremble, his lips to quiver. The
life of the girl he loved so dearly was at stake, and for
her he could do much.
"The first thing," continued Sir William, "is to
get some one to take the entire charge of Miss de St.
Lance, to remain in her room, and to give he.r all that
she takes—medicine and food. Whom would you
2l8
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
recommend for that purpose, Mr. Chilvers ? It should
not be a servant or a hired nurse."
" It must cither be her mother or Miss Arncourt,"
said Eric.
" Her mother, being the elder, would be preferable,"
said Sir William. "We must impress upon her that
the greatest attention to the patient's diet is needful.
Mind, no hint need be given to her of the truth. I
have the greatest esteem and respect for ladies, but I
do not think they can keep secrets. No hint must be
given to her. I shall merely tell her that such great
caution is needed over the patient's diet, that Dr.
Grant himself will order all that she has to take."
" Miss Arncourt is younger than madame ; she
would, perhaps, make the most watchful nurse," said
Eric.
" No; I think the young girl's mother will be the
best person to attend her. Then strict orders must be
given that no one except ourselves and you, Mr. Chilvers,
shall, under any pretext whatever, enter the room. You
must, in the meantime, watch intently. Then we shall
find out who gives the poison, if we discover nothing
more,"
" I will do it," replied Eric.
" It would be well for you to watch both night and
day," said Dr. Grant ; "you can do it without attracting
attention."
" I will never leave my post till the culprit is dis¬
covered," said Eric ; " that I promise you."
As he was speaking, Lord Arncourt entered the
room. He was most courteous to Sir William.
" I hope," he said, " that you think favorably of
our dear invalid. I am distressed to hear that she is
so ill."
" I have hopes," replied the great physician ; " but
it is a case that requires careful watching. I thought
of intruding on your hospitality for a day or two, my
lord."
" I shall be delighted and honored," replied Lord
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
219
Arncouit- "but I am grieved to think that poor Belle
is in such danger."
" She certainly is in great danger," was the reply.
" But I hope we shall be able to waive it off. I thank
you, my lord, for your courtesy. It is an involved,
complicated case, and I should like to give it my closest
attention."
Then Reine, who had been riding with Lord Arn-
court, came in, her face brilliant in its glow of health.
She looked from one to the other, and Lord Arncourt
introduced her to Sir William Hailbury. He looked
admiringly into her beautiful face.
"Do you think Miss de St. Lance very ill?" she
asked him.
" Yes," he replied ; " seriously ill. I intend remain¬
ing with her."
A little of,the brilliant bloom faded.
" I am very sorry," she said, gently. " I thought
and hoped it was half of it fancy ; I told her so."
" I am afraid," said Sir William, sadly, " it is terribly
real—the danger I mean."
Reine raised her dark eyes to his face.
"What is the matter with her ? " she asked ; "is it
consumption or decline ? I have heard that all the De
St. Lances were consumptive."
" Indeed," said Sir William, " I cannot answer your
question Miss Arncourt- I am not sure, but I have no
doubt Miss de St. Lance's illness is weakness, decline,
or failure of strength, no matter what name it is called."
"Poor Belle!" said Reine, pityingly; "I did not
think it was so bad. I must go to her; I must help to
nurse her."
."It will be better not," said Sir William. "The
fact is, that quiet and rest are essential to her. I am
about to give .strict orders that no one shall enter the
room except the person who has charge of her."
" But I am her sister," said Reine; " she always
fancies my society cheers her. You must let me go."
" I am sorry to refuse a favor to so fair a lady,"
220
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
said the physician, with a courtly bow, " but I must
do it."
"You must obey Sir William, Reine," said Lord
Arncourt. "You must not enter Belle's room until he
gives you permission. It is nothing infectious, I pre¬
sume, Sir William ? "
" Not in the least," was the reply. " I tell you
frankly, my lord, the young lady is in great danger. I
trust it may be evaded, but her life hangs literally on a
thread. Will you therefore give me permission to issue
certain orders to your household, and to see that they
are obeyed ?"
" I hope," said Lord Arncourt, graciously, " that
while you are in this house, Sir William, you will con¬
sider yourself master of it. I am greatly distressed to
hear this news of poor Belle ; I have great hopes in
your well-known skill." .
Then Lord Arncourt and Reine quitted the library.
"Dr. Grant," said Sir William, "will you remain
with the young lady for the next two hours ? If she
seems better then, we must do our best to prevent her
from being made worse again. Mr. Chilvers, you cannot
begin your watch too soon."
Eric left the doctors together.
" Who am I to watch ? " he thought to himself. " A
skillful detective would be of more use here than I am."
As he went from the library Reine overtook him.
" How grave these doctors look, Eric ; there is
nothing much the matter with Belle, I hope?"
Looking at her bright face, he felt the greatest in¬
clination to tell her his troubles. She looked so bright,
so reliable ; he knew that she was quick and keen.
" She would make a far better detective than I
shall," he thought, with a deep sigh, and Reine looking
at him, said :
" Eric, you sigh like Don Quixote. Cheer up ; the
house is more like a tomb than anything else since this
illness began."
A WOMAN'S TEMPTA TION.
221
CHAPTER XLVIII.
* HOW WAS HE TO FIND OUT BELLE'S ENEMY?"
Eric Chilvers, when he gained his solitude', was
more bewildered than he had ever been before. He
could no longer doubt the truth of the assertion made
by the two doctors, yet he could not imagine who could
be the culprit, who would injure gentle, simple, tender¬
hearted Belle, a girl who had never in the whole course
of her existence hurt the feelings of any human being;
a girl whose whole care was to be kind and considerate,
whose thoughts were sweet as her words—who could
injure her, who dare?
There was no servant in that household who did not
seem to adore her, who was not ready at all times to
obey her least wish at any trouble to themselves. An¬
other thing puzzled him—what possible motive could
any one have for so doing ? How could her death bene¬
fit any person ? She had no money, she was in no one's
way ; no life could possibly be more sweet, more useful,
more harmless than hers.
Eric had recourse to man's great consoler—a cigar.
He went out into the shady, fragrant gardens, and
smoked as he thought; but the more he thought the
more puzzled he grew. There was no gleam of light
for him ; he could not see his way through the mists
that surrounded him. Who could hate Belle so in¬
tensely as to want to take her life? Who hated her so
bitterly as to wish to see her dead ? If he could but
discover them ! His face darkened, his strong hands
were clenched. If he could but discover them, there
would be little mercy shown to them. Belle, so fair, so
gentle, so sweet and loving.
He was not destined to be long alone. Reine, who
222
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
was generally on the watch for him, had seen him from
the windows of her room, and hastened to him. She
would not let him think she had gone purposely to meet
him. Despite the passionate love that grew stronger
and more intense day by day, Reine had not lost her
pride. She would not let him think that she sought
him purposely. She took a book in her hands, and was
seemingly bent upon finding a cool, shady spot for read¬
ing. Then, of course, she met him, and looked at him
with-well-feigned surprise.
" Eric, I thought you were dissolved in tears some¬
where or other."
He did not like the light tone of her voice, or the
bright smile with which she glanced at him. True,
Belle was not her sister, but then they had lived to¬
gether like children of one mother. Surely she might
look more sorry, when beautiful Belle lay under the
shadow of death.
" If I were weeping, Reine," he said, " it would be
nothing wonderful, considering how ill Belle is. Those
doctors have frightened me."
"Of course they have," she replied, impatiently;
" they intended to frighten you—they always do that;
then they think ybu will attribute everything to their
skill. I do not believe in doctors ; they never agree;
two of them never give the same opinion. My notion
of a true science is one founded on invariable rules. I
believe that if you had only been contented to leave
Belle alone, she would have recovered ; with one doctor
she had a faint chance, two will be too much for her."
" Reine," said Eric, sternly, " how can you speak so
lightly ? Do you know that the girl you have called
sister is in danger of death ? "
Her beautiful face flushed hotly.
" I do not believe it," she said. " I do not believe
that Belle will die ; and, Eric, if she does, it will be very
grievous, very sad ; but then we all have to die."
" The knowledge of that fact makes it no easier to
bear," he replied.
" No ; but it gives one calmer and more philosophical
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
22 3
ideas. Now, if I were dying there would be more to
grieve over."
" Why?" asked Eric, briefly.
There was a half sad, half mocking smile on the
girl's face as she replied :
" Belle is so good, I am so bad. In her case she
simply finishes her life as an angel on earth, and begins
a new one as an angel in heaven. I am very different.
I have nothing of the angel about me, and never shall
have."
"You are right concerning Belle," he said; "but
for your own sake, I hope you are wrong as to yourself."
" I am not," she replied. " Belle was a good child,
always sweet and submissive, obedient. Madame never
had to speak twice to her. I, on the contrary, was will¬
ful, passionate, wayward, hating all control, and bent
upon having my own way."
" You are very candid," he said.
" Yes. I do not know that I am altogether so much
ashamed of myself as I ought to be. I think, on the
whole, I rather prefer naughty children to good ones.
The pattern children in books annoy me beyond every-
thing."
" You talk so wildly, Reine," he said.
She held up her pretty, white hand with a charm¬
ing gesture.
"Listen," she said; "do you hear that chorus of
birds ? Own, now, that the wildest notes are the sweet¬
est. When Belle talks to you, you never have to re¬
proach her for being wild."
" Indeed I do not," he answered, earnestly.
" She is like the model children in the books. Ah,
me, Eric! nothing could ever make me into a model.
You are not listening to me, I see; your eyes have that
far-away look I know so well. Where are your
thoughts ? "
" With Belle," he replied, simply.
He did not see the impatient flush that rose to her
face. Suddenly she turned to him.
224
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION
" Eric," she asked, " what should you do if poor Belle
died ?"
His face grew quite white, his eyes grew dim with
unshedtears.
" What should I do ? " he repeated. "I am not sure
that I should do anything. It would take all the bright¬
ness and the happiness out of my life forever. I don't
say that it would kill me—men are hard to kill ; but the
best part of me, my hopes and my happiness, would die
with her. I cannot bear to think of it."
" It would be harder to bear, I suppose, if she were
really your wife ? "
" I do not know ; I could not love her better. Do
not talk to me even of the probability, Reine ; I cannot
bear it."
She looked keenly at him for a moment.
' " You would never do anything foolish, Eric," she
said. "You would not, for instance, think of suicide,
as some men do when they lose what they love best ? "
" No," he replied, gravely. " I should never do so ;
I should submit to the wise will of a great God. But,
as I said before, it would take all the happiness away
from my life forever."
Then they walked on for some time in silence.
" You would understand me better, Reine," he said,
" if you had ever loved anyone yourself. Until that
time comes you will not understand either my love or
my sorrow."
She looked at him earnestly.
" You think, then, Eric, that I have never loved any
one ? "
" I know that you are considered a very proud, fair
lady," he replied ; " and that people wonder why you
send away one lover after another. I do not think you
have any idea of love."
The beautiful, passionate face, the dark eyes, were
turned for one moment toward him. If he had seen
her than, he might have had some faint idea of her
secret; but he was looking over the trees to the window
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
22 S
of the room where Belle lay struggling against mighty
death.
She followed the direction of his eyes, and her own
grew brighter with a wild fire.
"Reine," asked Eric, suddenly; "do you think any
one hates Belle ? "
She was so startled that for one moment she could
hardly reply. Her hands trembled, her face grew pale.
" Hates Belle ? " she repeated, slowly. " Why should
they ? "
" That is the very question I ask myself, and ask in
vain," he replied.
Then remembering how near he was betraying him¬
self, he hastened to add :
" I was just thinking that if ever there was any one in
the wide world who had the good will and kind wishes
of every one who knows her, it would be Belle."
" I should say so, Eric. I have known her all my
life, and never saw her do an unkind action, or heard
her say an unkind word. I do not think any one could
hate her, or even dislike her. Why do you ask me so
strange a question ? "
" I was thinking of her," he answered evasively.
" She looked so healthy and well when you both came
together. I remember thinking, the first moment
I saw her, that she had the fairest face, with the loveliest
bloom I had ever seen. No one could have dreamed
that she would die young."
" The De St. Lances are all delicate," said Reine.
" Madam used to tell us about her husband and his
fragile health. They are not a strong race, like the
Arncourts, for instance."
" I never thought Belle delicate. I used to watch
her for hours ; she walked well, and seemed strong. I
cannot account for the change in her."
Then he suddenly remembered that if this horrible
theory of the doctors were true, the change in her could
easily be accounted for.
" You look very unhappy, Eric," said Reine, who had
226
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
watched the change that came over his face , " could I
do any thing to make you happier ?"
" No," he said gently. " You are very kind, Reine,
All my happiness is centered in Belle."
The girl looked at him wistfully ; there was some¬
thing almost piteous in the gaze of those dark eyes.
" How dearly you must love her, Eric."
" Love her! Ah, Reine! words are so weak, they
will not express great love ; it can only be felt, not de¬
scribed. I do not think any man on earth ever loved a
woman so dearly."
" I must go in," said Reine suddenly. " I fancied
it would be pleasant out here, but it is not."
The beautiful, restless face was flushed, the lips
trembled.
" I thought you came out to read ? " said Eric.
" So I did ; but all places are alike to me. I may as
well read indoors as without. Good-morning, Eric."
" I wish I could read," he said. " I should like to
lose the torment of my thoughts."
But she noticed that he made no effort to detain her.
He did not express any wish that she should remain
with him, and Reine turned away, sick at heart.
" Idovv can any man give his whole heart to that
baby-faced girl! " she thought. " A man like Eric-
strong, noble, and manly. I could sooner love sugar-
plumbs. Ah! me, if I were a man, the woman I loved
should have some fire with her sweetness, some passion,
some life, some animation. She should be able to tor¬
ment as well as love me, to give me some sauce-piquante
when I required it. If I were a man, I could never love
any one so sweet and so good as Belle."
Reine went back to the house, and Eric continued
his solitary walk. What was he to do ? How was he
to find out Belle's enemy ? and again he wished that he
had not given thai solemn promise of secrecy, so that he
might use the keen, sharp wits of Reine.
It was madame who joined him next. She came
out to him and walked with him, leaning on his arm.
" The doctors are both with Belle," she said, " and
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
227
they advised me to come out for a little fresh air. Eric,
Low strange they seem. Do you know that they have
forbidden me to leave the room, by night or by day, un¬
less they are there to take my place."
" They are anxious over her, and they know that you,
her mother, will take better care of her than any one
else," said Eric.
lint he could see the weary look deepen on madame's
face, and he knew that she was ill at ease.
CHAPTER XLIX.
"he will never care for me."
•f
The long bright day came to an end at last. To
Eric, it had seemed a century long; the warm summer
hours oppressed him ; he was ill both in body and mind ;
the anxiety was almost more than he could bear. He
had felt ill before, but since the doctors had made their
terrible communication be had felt worse.
When a duty lies straight before a man he can ac¬
complish it, but Eric could not see his way through the
duty laid upon him. He had been told that he was to
watch—whom must he watch ? He was quite at a loss
what to do.
He took a kind of review of the servants ; there was
not one who did not express the greatest concern for
the young lady. Besides, common sense asked him
what object could these housemaids, cooks, footmen and
grooms have in Belle de St. Lance's death ? It was
most improbable.
Eric was wretched, not only from the fact of her ill¬
ness, but because of the uncertainty over the culprit. It
is not pleasant to know that you are under the same
roof with a would-be murderer; and some one, it was
evident, intended to murder Belle. It was a relief to
228
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
him when the dinner-bell rang, not because he wanted
to dine, but because so much of the long wearisome day
had passed.
Lord Arncourt sent a pressing and courteous invi¬
tation to the two doctors to be present at dinner, and as
madame was with Belle, they complied. Lord Arncourt
inquired most kindly after their patient; they told him
there was no change in her condition.
Then Reine, exquisitely dressed, entered the room.
Sir William, grave and learned physician that he was,
seemed struck with the girl's glowing beauty, enhanced
by a grace of manner beyond all description, and a toilet
exquisite in its elaborate simplicity.
All conquests came alike to Reine. In her heart
there was one deep, passionate love—a love so intense
that it had become a fire, and had destroyed all things
before it; yet, despite, this one great love, the young
lady was not by any means averse to minor conquests.
She delighted in the homage of the great physician ;
she was at her best before him—witty, brilliant, and
versatile ; sarcastic, yet not unkind. He was charmed ;
he never remembered to have seen before so brilliant
a combination of beauty and talent. When dinner was
over she sang to him ; her rich, clear, contralto voice
seemed to echo through the room. Sir William listened
until his eyes grew dim with tears.
"You renew my youth," he said to her. "When
listening to you I forget that I am toil-worn."
" Your toil has been in a noble cause," she said, in
that gracious, winning manner of hers. " The world
will be the better for your having lived in it, Sir William;
you have done good to your kind."
" It has pleased heaven to allow me to be of some
little service," said the old doctor, " and I am thankful
for it."
He was charmed with her. She reminded him of
one of the brilliant French women who live in the pages
of history.
" That girl could win or lose a kingdom," he said to
himself. " She is irresistible."
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
229
Yet Eric Chilvers had preferred the star-like beauty
of Belle de St. Lance.
" What brilliant talents ! " thought Sir William ;
" what a strongly marked, resolute character ! If she
became what is called ' religious,' she would be earnest,
fervent as an apostle ; if she should ever fall, she would
be the queen of sinners. She has character and strength
of will enough for a dozen women, and each of them
would be difficult to manage."
They did not remain long in the drawing-room.
Lord Arncourt was more anxious over Belle than he
cared to show. He did not know how he loved the fair,
gentle girl until she was nearly lost to him. He could
not sit there and enjoy idle conversation—listen to the
strains of such sweet music—while the shadow of dan¬
ger hung over Belle. He went away soon ; the doctors
retired to their respective rooms. Eric was left alone.
Twice the butler came in to see if he would have lights,
but Eric sat in the gloaming, puzzling over what he
should do.
The doctors had some little conversation before they
parted.
" What a brilliant girl that Miss Arncourt is," said
Dr. Grant. " She is quite charming."
" Yes," replied Sir William, with his courtly smile.
" I must say myself that having the two ladies to choose
from, 1 wonder that Mr. Chilvers did not choose her."
Dr. Grant looked at him with a smile.
" I have found out one thing, Sir William ; Mr.
Chilvers has chosen as he would, but I am quite sure
Miss Arncourt loves him."
Sir William laughed.
" I do not think," he said, " that Miss Arncourt is
one who would love in vain."
But Dr. Grant was not to be convinced or shaken in
his opinion.
" I watched her," he said. " I watched the play on
her beautiful features ; however deeply she seemed en¬
grossed with others, she never for one moment forgot
him ; when her eyes rested on him, they seemed
23°
A WOMAN"1 S TEMPTATION.
with a deep, tender light ; her voice took quite another
tone when she spoke to him. I must flatter you by say¬
ing you were so deeply engrossed in her that you did
not notice these things."
"No, that I certainly did not. You think Miss Arn-
court loves Eric Chilvers ? "
" I am quite certain of it," replied Dr. Grant.
" In that case," said Sir William, slowly, " she can¬
not feel any great affection for Miss de St. Lance."
After these few words the doctors looked at each
other in silence ; then Sir William said :
" May Heaven have mercy on us all ! "
And Dr. Grant solemnly answered :
" Amen !"
They parted then ; but long after Dr, Grant had left
him Sir William stood in the room silent and motion¬
less.
" I have been so long in the world," he said, " that
nothing ought to surprise me ; yet I must confess this
does. I will not think of anything so terrible."
He took up a book and tried to read, but some idea
haunted him. He could not understand what he read.
Eric sat alone in the drawing-room, watching the
last gray gleams of light die away on the trees and
flowers. He was more unhappy than he could describe.
Belle ill, so as to be in danger, was bad enough ; but
Belle poisoned ! Belle put to the torture of a slow, lin¬
gering death ! It was like a horrible nightmare, a most
horrible dream.
If he had followed the impulse of his own will, he
would have aroused the whole household—he would
have created such a storm and tempest as must have
brought the offender to light. The only thing that re¬
strained him was the doctor's sensible advice, that no
noise, no rumor should go abroad, lest the attempt,
frustrated this time, should be renewed at another ; so he
was obliged to sit inactive and miserable. As for watch¬
ing, as he had promised, he had already given up the
idea. Whom and what was he to watch ?
As he sat in his perplexity, Reine entered. She had
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
231
been wondering where he was, and although her inter
views with him were so unsatisfactory, she longed to se^
him once again that night, just to hear one word more,
even if that word should make her miserable.
" He never can be sitting in that great room alone,"
she said to herself ; and she went in to see.
He had thrown himself down on one of the great
Turkish cushions that filled the large western window ;
he was looking sadly out on the moonlit lawn, wonder¬
ing why this great trouble had overshadowed him, and
had darkened his life.
"Eric," said Reine, " is it possible that you are here
alone, without lights, giving yourself up to all kinds of
gloomy thoughts ? Cheer up ; you may have better
news of Belle to-morrow."
He looked at her gratefully; her beautiful face, her
kindly voice cheered him. She went up to him, and
knelt down by his side. In this fragrant twilight she
dare venture more than she had ventured before. She
laid one white hand on his.
"Eric," she said, gently, " this will not do. You
must not despond ; you must bear up more bravely. I
wish I knew what to do to comfort you."
He was weak and tired ; the kindness of her voice
seemed to touch the depths of his heart ; he buried his
face in his hands, and she heard a deep sob come from
his lips.
Her face in that moment was wonderful to see—the
envy, the impatience, that struggled with the passionate
love. She bent over him.
" Eric," she said, gently, "do let me comfort you ; I
cannot bear to see you suffer so ; let me comfort you."
She never forgot the anguish on his face as he
raised it to her's.
" Reine," he said, in a low, hoarse voice, " I cannot
bear to lose Belle. I do not know what I shall do ; I
cannot lose her."
" Could nothing—-could no one console you if you
lost her ? " she said.
He did not in the least understand her meaning.
232
WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
" No," he replied ; " the world will only be to me a
blank desert if she leaves it. I cannot bear it, Reine ;
the very thought of it unmans me, drives me mad—I
am ashamed of myself—makes me weak and helpless as
a child. No one can give me any comfort. You are
very kind, very good, but you cannot give health and
strength to Belle."
He could not understand why she rose so impatiently,
as though she would turn away, then knelt down again,
as though she repented the impulse.
'• Eric," she said, softly, " suppose your worst fears
are realized—that Belle dies—you need not despair. In
the time that comes after, you will find some one else
who loves you perhaps even more than she does."
" Hush, Reine ! " he cried ; " you seek to comfort me
in vain. All the beauty, the charm, the grace, the talent
in the world could not make another Belle for me. Hark !
Lord Arncourt is sending for me—I must go."
He rose, the tears still large and bright in his eyes,
and went out, leaving Reine alone. When he was gone,
she flung herself, with a passionate cry, among the
cushions.
" My love ! " she sobbed ; " my wasted, wounded love !
He will never care for me ! "
She wept with the vehemence of anger and passion
that shook her beautiful figure as the wind sways the
leaves on the tree.
" He will never care for me," she said ; " and I love
him so dearly I would give him all my life; yet he likes
that pale, baby-faced girl better than me ! "
It was almost pitiful to see her in the great abandon¬
ment of her sorrow.
" Even if she dies he will not care for me. He will
make himself a martyr and a hero, by being what he will
call true to her memory. He is so blind, so weak, to care
for her. Why should I love him ? why should I waste
my heart, my soul, my life on him, who is content with
the love of that baby face ? I hate myself, vet I knew
that when love came to me, it would be all fire."
She rose from the ground ; she gathered together the
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
233
magnificent hair which had fallen around her. She went
to the door and stood there listening.
There was deep silence in the house, unbroken save
by the distant sound in the servant's hall ; Reine shud¬
dered as she stood there.
" It is like the silence of the grave," she said to her¬
self.
Then she heard the library door open, and Eric came
out with Lord Arncourt. They say good-night ; Lord
Arncourt told Eric to go to rest at once.
"You are making yourself quite ill," he said, "and,
as yet, I will not believe that our pretty Belle is in
danger."
CHAPTER L.
discovered.
Deep silence had fallen upon the house. The ser¬
vants, with the exception of one who sat up in case of
emergency, had all retired to rest. Lord Arncourt was
in his room, the doctors had retired to theirs, and Eric,
though he longed for rest, was still unable to sleep. He
heard the clock strike eleven, twelve, one, and two ; still
he was unable to rest. His thoughts were all with Belle
—Belle, whom he loved so dearly, and who lay in danger
of death. He saw the moonbeams lying in great floods
of silvery light on the floor of his room. He was won¬
dering if ever he should walk in the moonlight with
Belle again.
Suddenly he heard the same sound that had startled
him once before, the sound of noiseless footsteps passing
his door. None but the quickest ears could have de¬
tected them ; but Eric was quick of hearing.
"What is that?" he thought. "Who can it be?
Who can be moving through the house with those hushed,
234
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
quiet footsteps ? Who could it be ? What could they be
going to do ? Why, if business or necessity called any
one at this strange hour, why make a mystery of it ? "
Suddenly, like lightning, the idea flashed over him;
" Was it any one who intended any harm to Belle ?"
The next moment he had resolved upon opening the
door and going to see what and who it was.
At the farther end of the corridor he saw a tall figure
moving with a gliding, noiseless step—a figure clothed
in a long gray dressing-gown.
He closed his door so quietly that no sound could
be heard, and started in pursuit.
The tall figure glided on, down the broad staircase,
through the corridor that led to Belle's room. He fol¬
lowed.
At the door of Belle's room it stopped, and he stopped
also. His heart beat so quickly and so loudly, as it
seemed to him, that he was afraid of betraying himself.
He felt sure that here was the clew to the mystery;
that he held it here in his hand ; that this person, let it
be whom it might, was going into her room to do her
deadly harm ; that was the reason of the cautious, secret,
noiseless movements.
Then the door opened ; the tall figured entered, leav¬
ing the door open. Eric followed. He concealed him¬
self behind the heavy hanging curtains, where he could
watch unseen.
Belle lay in a calm, death-like slumber. The light
of the lamp was so arranged that it should not disturb
her ; but in the dim light he could see the pale, death¬
like face. There was no sign of life in her, except the
gentle breathing which parted her pale lips.
Madame de St. Lance was seated in an easy chair,
also fast saleep. Hers was apparently the sleep of
exhaustion, she was weary with watching.
All this Eric saw at one glance.
The tall figure leaned for one moment over Belle,
looked at the poor, sweet face, went over to madame,
and looked intently at her.
Then Eric s?w the woman (he had not yet seen her
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATTON.
235
face) go up to the little stand where the lamp with the
medicine bottles were all arranged. She opened one of
them. It contained two or three doses of a soothing
cordial that Sir William had prescribed.
Then from the pocket of her dress she took a small
vial and slowly, carefully, steadily dropped, counting the
drops, some of its contents.
There could be no more doubt as to who was the
poisoner.
She raised the bottle to the light ; as she did so,
Eric caught a glimpse of her face.
" Great Heaven ! " he cried," it is Reine !"
She turned her beautiful ghastly face. She tried to
move, and as she did so, the table with the lamp was
upset, and they were left in total darkness.
The terrible noise awoke and alarmed madame. She
sprang from the chair with a loud cry, but in the dark¬
ness she could distinguish nothing. No idea except
that of thieves occurred to her. She remembered that
she had not locked the room door, and she immediately
concluded that thieves had broken into the house, and
finding that door most easily opened had gone in there.
With that idea firmly fixed in her mind, madame went
to the door.
" Thieves ! " she cried in a loud voice. " Thieves! "
Then Eric rushed after her; he caught her and
brought her back.
" There are no thieves," he said ; "it is ten thousand
times worse than that." He closed the door. " Have
you a light ?" he said ; " no means of finding a light ? "
But madame was too terrified to speak.
Just then there came another sound at the door.
Lord Arncourt and Sir William were the only two who
had heard that cry of "Thieves!" and they had both
hastened to the rescue. Lord Arncourt fortunately had
a taper in his hand. They both looked aghast at the
scene before them.
Belle lay, white and trembling, too frightened to
speak ; madame was half-fainting ; Eric, his face all in
a glow of Indignation and anger, stood holding her
236
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
Bat the face that attracted all attention was that of
Reine ; nothing so ghastly, so terrible, had ever been
seen before.
Lord Arncourt looked from one to another.
"Eric! Reine!" he cried. " What is the matter ? "
Eric caught Reine's hand.
" Take that vial, Sir William, and tell us what it
contains."
Sir William took it. He looked at it, then at them.
" Speak out, I pray you," cried Eric. " What does
it contain ? "
Then the physician named a poison that even the
most ignorant know to be of a deadly nature.
" Will you take it and keep it in your possession,"
said Eric, " until it is required ? "
" But, what does this mean ?" cried Lord Arncourt,
" Madame, it was your cry I heard; what does it
mean ?"
For all answer, madame wept aloud.
" Eric ! " cried he, " what is it ? Why are you here ?
What is the meaning of this scene? I must know.
Reine, why do you look so ghastly—what are you do¬
ing? Will no one speak to me ?"
" I beg you to control yourself, my lord," said Sir
William. " I have a faint inkling of the truth ; if it be
what I imagine, silence will be the best."
He turned suddenly, for madame had fallen fainting
to the ground.
Then Eric, still holding Reine's white wrist, said:
" We must not forget that we are in a sick-room.
Lord Arncourt, come with me; I will tell you what this
means."
Still holding Reine, he led the way to one of the
large state bedrooms that opened on to the same corri¬
dor.
" Eric," cried Lord Arncourt, " I cannot understand
you. Will you explain what this means? Why are
you treating my daughter in this fashion ? Why are
you holding Reine's hand as though she were a crimi¬
nal, and you her accuser? What does this midnight
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
237
scene mean ? I cannot understand. Reine, if Eric
will not speak to me, you must."
Then Eric released his hold of that white wrist; he
placed Reine in a chair, for during this time she had
spoken no word.
" I will tell you what it means," he said. " It means
that your daughter, Reine, is one of the wickedest of
women ; she is the most false of all traitresses."
" Stop ! " cried Lord Arncourt. " Neither you nor
any other man shall say those things of my Reine."
He made one step forward, his face in an angry
flame, his eyes dashing fire.
" One more such word, Eric Chilvers, and it shall be
your last!"
He held up his hand with a warning gesture.
" Wait ! Hear me in patience ; she is all that and
worse. Nay, Lord Arncourt, even killing me will not
mitigate vouv daughter s crime. Listen. I did not tell
you before because secrecy was thought advisable. Do
you know what ails the sweet, tender-hearted girl who
never wronged or wounded one single soul. Do you
know what ails her? what is destroying the fair life?
what is sending her, young and well-loved as she is, to
an early grave ? "
" No," replied Lord Arncourt; " I do not know."
He was beginning to feel anxious, hardly knowing
why.
" I will tell you. She is being slowly but surely
poisoned by your daughter, Reine."
Again Lord Arncourt made an angry step forward.
He raised his hand as though he would strike Eric to
the ground.
" I would not believe it, Eric Chilvers," he said, " if
you swore it."
" It is true. I will tell you all about it. Dr. Grant
suspected it, but was loth to believe it. hie would not
trust to his own judgment, but when the symptoms con¬
firmed his ideas he sent at once for Sir Wiliiam Hailbury,
who arrived at the same conclusion. They both felt
certain that she was being slowly and secretly poisoned.
238
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
Then the difficulty was to discover by whom. It was
in order to make that discovery that the doctors have
remained here. You yourself would have been told all
♦this to-day. In the interim, they asked me, in the interest
of justice, to find out the culprit if I could. It was a
most difficult task, my lord. Every one loved the gentle
girl whose life is filled with thoughts for others. It
was hard to find out who would harm her. I tried my
very best, but failed. I could not think of any one who
would be likely to hurt Belle. It was difficult, but
Heaven helped me. Last night, for the second time, I
heard the sound of stealthy footsteps passing my door.
I opened the door and followed the tall figure down the
corridor. I followed it to the door of Belle's room, and
went in after it. I saw the woman 'I had followed take
a small vial from her pocket and drop some of its con¬
tents into Belle's medicine bottle. I caught her wrist
while she held the vial in her hand. That woman was
Reine. The vial she held contained a deadly poison.
You heard Sir William declare it, and now I repeat,
that your daughter has willfully tried to poison my
promised wife. In the silence of the night she has crept
to her room ; she has mixed poison with her medicine ;
she has tried to kill her."
" I will not believe it," cried Lord Arncourt; but
Eric saw the red flush had died from his face, and the
angry light from his eyes. "I cannot believe it. I say
it is all false, and you are mad, quite mad, to accuse my
beautiful Reine of such a crime!"
'■ Nay, Lord Arncourt, it is easy to deny it, to call
me mad ; but I assure you most solemnly it is true.
You cannot doubt when I tell you that Sir William him¬
self took the vial from her hand, and he will tell you
what its contents are."
" Eric," cried Lord Arncourt, " be pitiful to me!
She is my only daughter ! Say it is not true."
" I cannot. I would if I could. I cannot do so.
She is guilty before Heaven, and I declare it."
Lord Arncourt looked at his daughter. The beautiful
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
239
face had regained all its bloom, all its pride; there was
no longer any fear in it.
" Reine ! Reine !" he cried. " I will not believe it.
Say, for Heaven's sake, that it is not true ! "
Rut she made no answer. He looked piteously at
Eric.
" Why should she do it ? " he said. " What sense,
what reason is there in it ? What possible motive could
she have for such a crime ? "
" I do not know," replied Eric. " I cannot see that
she had any motive. Belle has never injured her. They
have lived like sisters; their lives have been passed to¬
gether. I cannot tell you why she has done it; I only
know that she has done it. The motive is a mystery."
There was a sound of some one trying to open the
door. Eric turned, and saw madame. With a pale,
scared face, she went up to him, and, in a voice that
trembled with emotion, she asked :
" What is the matter Eric ? Tell me. Belle is very
ill. What has Reine done ? "
She turned to her, clasping her white, thin hands.
" Oh Reine !" she cried ; " tell me what it is that
you have done ?"
CHAPTER LI.
confessing her crime.
Reine looked from one to the other, the half-mock¬
ing smile still on her lips. Madame, with all the dignity
of despair, turned to Lord Arncourt.
" My Lord," she said, " will you tell me what Reine
has done ?"
" I will tell you what she is accused of," he replied.
" Mr. Chilvers accuses her—my daughter and your
charge, madame—he accuses her of poisoning Belle.
240
^ WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
Was ever chat'ge so monstrous, so cruel ? And she sits
there silent; she will not deny it; she will not defend
herself by one single word."
Madame's face grew ghastly as she listened ; she
leaned on on' of the chairs for support.
" Poisoning Beile ! " she repeated. "It is not pos¬
sible ; she could not do it."
Then Madame's voice died away ; she had thought
of something which made the deed seem very probable.
She remembered one night, when waking suddenly, she
had found Reine in Belle's room, and Reine held a bottle
in her hand ; she remembered the scared, frightened
expression of the girl's face as she turned to her.
" What are you doing here, Reine ?" she had asked,
and the answer had been that she could not sleep, and
had come to see how Belle was. Madame had felt un¬
easy at the time. She thought of it now. A hundred
little incidents seemed to flash into light, and she gave
a low cry of pain and despair.
"Reine," said Lord Arncourt, "let me know the
worst. Did you really commit this most cruel and
wicked sin—have you really tried to poison Belle ?"
She raised her face to his ; it was full of proud de¬
spair.
" I would deny it," she said, " if denial were of any
use. Sir William and the little vial will be too much for
me. I have really tried to poison Belle."
In the silence of the night the words fell with a
strange, weird sound. Lord Arncourt sat down ; the
strength of his strong limbs failed him.
Reine looked at none of them as she continued ;
" There is grace enough left in me to make me say
that I am almost glad I have not succeeded. After all,
I have a faint liking for the baby-faced girl. It is
perhaps quite as well that it has been found out. I
might not have been happy if she had died."
Lord Arncourt rose from his seat and went over to
her.
" Reine," he asked, slowly, " are you a woman ? or
are you a beautiful fiend ?"
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
241
" Whichever you like, papa," she replied, with a
reckless laugh ; "a mixture of both. Certainly all of
the fiend that there ever was in me has been aroused
of Tate ; yet you see, I cannot be all wicked, for I am
heartily glad that I did not kill poor, pretty Belle. Let
her live her weak little life."
"Reine! Reine !" cried Lord Arncourt, "it cannot
be you speaking in that style ; it cannot be you ; and yet
I know that you have no heart."
" It would be well for me if I had not," she replied,
with a bitter laugh. " The misfortune is, that I have too
much heart, though I grant that it is different to other
people's."
Then madame stretched out her hands imploringly.
"Reine!" she cried, what are you saying? It is
too horrible ; I cannot endure to hear it."
Eric stood by in silence; he turned to her now.
" Reine," he said, gravely, " will you tell us what led
you to this crime? what has made you a murderess?"
" I am not sure that I shall tell you," she replied.
" I think that I prefer passing from your sight forever
without giving you any clew to what you are pleased to
call my crime."
" I know ! " moaned madame. " Poor, unhappy
child, I know ! "
"Not," continued Eric, "that anything can excuse
you. You are a traitress—a murderess ; you have smiled
while that.innocent girl suffered; you have kissed her
with your lips, and with your hands dropped poison into
her cup. Ah ! false, wicked, worthless that you are,
what excuse can you offer ? "
"It was very bad of me," she said; "but do you
know that if I were tempted, I should do the same thing
over again ? All the same, I am glad poor Belle will
be saved."
"You are a heartless girl," he cried, angrily. "What
was your motive for the crime ?"
Slowly, gracefully, proudly, she turned to him.
Surely, one of the most, beautiful women ever seen ;
her magnificent wealth of hair falling over her white
242
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
shoulders ; her lovely face flashing; her dark eyes all
alight.
" You ask me that question ! " she said. " You
taunt and upbraid me. You denounce me and expose
me to the world. You lay my crime bare before the
eyes of men. You, for whose sake I have suffered and
sinned. I will tell you why I tried to poison Belle ; it
was because I loved you so dearly and so well that I
would have committed any crime for the sake of win¬
ning your love."
He started back, as though she had stabbed him ;
and madame held out her hands with an imploring
gesture.
'•It was because I loved you so well," repeated
Reine. " You who have denounced me." She stood
proudly facing him, fearless, brave, dauntless, if it had
been but in a good cause. " I said long ago," she con¬
tinued, " that if love ever came to me it would be a fire—
not a sentiment, but a fire—and it has proved so. 1 am
not ashamed to say that I love you ; I loved you the first
moment I saw vou. I loved you in spite of your cold¬
ness, your indifference ; all the strength, the love of my
heart I have given to you who have denounced me ; such
love as you—weak and miserable—could never dream
of; such love—oh, my God !—as might have made me a
good woman if it had been fortunate. It is too late for
all that now, too late ; I need not think of it; but Eric,
if you had known the height, the depth, the greatness
of my love, even you would pity me."
Her rich musical voice had sounded so clearly it had
seemed to thrill with pain, and now it died away in a
low murmur on her lips ; for one moment her pride and
strength seemed to give way. She buried her face in
her hands, with a low, despairing cry :
" I might have been so happy and so good, but for
my unhappy love," she moaned ; " and you—you whom
I loved so well—have denounced me."
His face grew pale as he listened to her.
" I did not know it, Reine," he said, gently.
"No," she replied; "you did not know it. It does
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
24 3
not matter now. But, Eric, I gave you my heart, my
heart's love—love that might have crowned a king ; love
that would have infolded you as a shield ; love that would
have been immortal; love that would have made me a
noble woman, but now has made me—a fiend ! The
world is full of beauty, of wealth, and of power. I asked
but one thing from it, and that was your love. I have
not got it ; and I am utterly careless as to what becomes
of me. I do not care if you denounce me to the whole
world, if you publish my sin from the house-tops. You
can do just as you please."
" But. Reine, surely what you are pleased to call love
would never drive you to the commission of such a hor¬
rible crime ?"
" i told you," she said, " that my love was a fire, de¬
stroying all things before it—a fire that lays waste and
burns. That baby-faced girl stood between me and my
love I have sought to remove her. I was as one mad, Eric,
when I found that you cared for her, and not for me:
that you loved her, and nor me. You talk ot suffering,
Eric! You calm, cold people do not even know what
suffering means. I could tell you—I, whose despair
has driven me to murder ! "
There was an intensity of tragic sorrow about her
that startled them.
" I might," she continued, " have been a good woman ;
good in a commonplace kind of way, like other people,
but for that "
" It is not too late, Reine," said Eric, touched by
her drooping attitude, her humility and despair ; " it is
not too late. You may thank Heaven that your sin has
been discovered before it was too late. There is yet
time for you to be good and happy."
" No ; there is not. I shall not thank Heaven, nor
have I any wish for the good and happy time you speak
of. I shall take evil for my good."
" Reine, Reine, do not talk so ; you pierce my heart
with those words," cried Lord Arncourt.
" As mine was pierced long ago," she said. " by
Eric's neglect. I only speak as I feel. I am utterly
244
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
reckless. I am not even ashamed of having been found
out. Mine is a case of perverted affection. I always
was, and now am more inclined to evil than ever. Still,
wicked as lam traitress and murderess, Mr. Chilvers, as
you call me, I am still thankful that Belle had been
spared."
Madame turned to her with an air of dignity and
command.
" I will not allow you to speak in that reckless fash¬
ion, Reine. Rather fall on your knees and thank Heaven
that you have been spared the commission of so great a
crime."
Reine looked haughtily at her.
" Do not interfere, madame," she said ; " it is no
business of yours."
•' It is my business," said madame. " I trained you ;
you have been for years to me as my own child."
" I have no wish to bear the illustrious name of De
St Lance," said Reine, with cold sarcasm. " I prefer
my own."
" Which you have disgraced," said madame. with
flashing eyes, her pale face growing crimson. But
nothing she could say could affect the proud spirit of the
girh
'• There is one thing I must say, madame. You can
receive my father's bounty as long as you will, but that
does not entitle you to any control over me. You have
made our home your home ; you have brought your
daughter here, and have seen her stand between me and
the man I love ; you have helped her to win the love for
which I would have died ; and now you presume to
preach to me."
" May Heaven forgive you ?" said the lady, sorrowfuly.
Reine laughed.
" I should indeed need forgiveness if I allowed my¬
self to be preached to, madame."
Her cool insolence aroused Madame de St. Lance.
" My lord," she said, " I appeal to you."
But the strong, proud man had broken down com¬
pletely.
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
245
" Would to Heaven," he said, " that I had died be,
fore I had known this. 01), Madame, I brought you a child
a little child, pure in heart, guileless in soul, and you
have returned to me a monster—a beautiful woman with,
out a heart. What do you say of your training, you who
were to have been as a mother to my motherless child ?
Where is the care, the wise counsel that should have
made a good woman of her ? I gave to you a child ;
you return to me a murderess. What am I to say to
you !
" Reine," said Eric, earnestly, " you see what misery
you cause. Repent of your evil deeds : change your de¬
fiance and pride into repentance and humility, so that
in the time to come we may be happier."
"I shall not interfere with your happiness," she re¬
plied, drearily, " you may all be happy enough without
me. Ought I to curse the day I saw, you Eric ? And
pray tell me, you religious people, who deal out rewards
and punishments so freely, pray tell me what is due to
the father who neglected me, who deserted me in my in¬
fancy, who was ashamed of my mother and ashamed of
me ? "
A cry of unutterable pain came from Lord Arncourt's
lips. The madame, with a stern, white face and uplifted
hand, said :
" Hush ! not one word more. I have something to
say."
CHAPTER LII.
"that was the hour of my temptation."
" I have something to say," she repeated. " Lord
Arncourt, no one has repaid kindness more basely than
I have done. You trusted me, and I have betrayed
your trust ; you were generous to me, and I have made
a sorry return for your generosity. See ! I am a proud
246
A WOMAN'S TEMPT A TTON.
woman, but I kneel here at your feet to implore your
pardon."
She sank upon her knees, and Lord Arncourt, look¬
ing up, saw the beautiful head, with lines of silver in the
dark hair, bent before him.
" Madame ! " he cried.
But she went on :
"You came to me, Lord Arncourt, long years ago,
in sorrow and distress ; you placed the greatest trust in
me that you could possibly place in any woman—you
gave me your child. Oh, my lord'. I was unworthy, all
unworthy ; yet I did my duty by her. I trained her
carefully as my own. Before that time came, I had
surfered greatly from privations and poverty. The
handsome sum that you paid to me freed me. For the
first time for some years, I found myself able to find
the necessaries and some of the comforts of life. For
some years I lived in peace ; then the time of my ter¬
rible temptation came, and I fell. You wrote to say
that your daughter was to come home and take her
proper place in your house. That was the hour of my
temptation. You said that I, too, was to come, and
from the tone of your letter, I knew that you meant
that home to be mine. But then, I thought to myself,
a thousand things might happen—you might remarry ;
then there would be no home, no provision for me. My
lord, as I stood watching the two girls, a sudden idea
occurred to me, that I would give you my daughter in
place of your own."
Lord Arncourt cried out in astonishment, and Eric
drew nearer ; Reine bent her proud face with a look of
supreme, scornful wonder, on madame.
" I can hardly tell you why I did it," she continued ;
" the idea flashed suddenly in my mind. I thought to
myself that by so acting I should always have a
hold over you ; that if you should marry again,
if you should lose your interest in me, and your
kindness wear itself out, that then I could say to my
daughter, 'You are mine!' and that she would, for the
sake of our secret, keep me from poverty. It was a
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
24V
foolish idea, but fear of poverty drove rue to it, nothing
else. It was foolish, because I knew that whatever I
might do myself, it would be impossible for me to teach
my child dishonor. My lord, the shame is mine ; the
disgrace is mine. Reine is my daughter, not yours ;
Belle is the same little Nina you brought to me years
ago."
" But, madame," cried Lord Arncourt, " what have you
gained by this cruel deception ? "
" Nothing," she replied. "I think that the fear of
poverty drove me half mad. I thought that if my
daughter was established at Neversleigh, that I should
never know want again, for she would supply all my
wants. My motives were weak enough, that I own
most frankly ; so weak, that now I think of them, I
cannot see how I ever yielded to so foolish a temptation
—I cannot understand it. Yet I thank Ileaven now
that Belle is your child, and that the shame of this most
wicked deed must fall on me, not on you."
" That is all very well," said Reine, cooly ; " it does
not alarm me in the least. It is one thing for you to
make such an assertion, madame, but quite another for
us to believe it. You must find some stronger proof
than your own word,"
" I can easily do that," said madame, " you foolish
child ; do you think I dare say such a thing if it were
not true ? I have but to send to Provence, I have but
to summon my old servant Janette, or any of the people
who knew us there, and I can easily satisfy you there
needs no proof. I am your unhappy mother ; Heaven
knows I should not claim such a child as you unless
dire need obliged me.
" I will send for Janette ; I will send, if you wish it,
for the cure who knew you, for the doctor who attended
you, and without one word from me, they will both
recognize Belle as the daughter of the English milord,
who was brought to me."
"I thank ileaven," said Lord Arncourt, " who could
recognize one trait of my darling child in this proud,
willful girl ? Yet I have loved you dearly, Reine."
248
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
" Have you ?" she said. " I should hardly have
imagined it, my lord, you seem to be so pleased to be
rid of me."
" Madame," asked Eric, "is this true? You would
not surely not deceive us a second time ?"
" It is true as that one day I must answer for my
sins," she said. " Oh, Eric, how can you doubt ? Think
of the difference between the two. Belle never gave
me one day's trouble ; she was always sweet, docile,
obedient, submissive, humble, and truthful. She never
gave me one minute's pain. She would be some com¬
fort to me in my old age. Reine was always a great
trouble ; she was always proud, willful, defiant. I never
could understand her. She had all the faults, but few
of the virtues of her race ; she has all the defects of her
country. Oh, Eric, Eric ! what comfort can she be to
me ? Why should I claim her if she were not indeed
mine ?"
" I am convinced," said Eric. '* have often thought
myself, and have often heard others say, that Belle was
far more like the Arncourts than Reine."
" You will be superlatively happy now," said Reine.
" You are not only marrying the girl you love, but you
are wedding Lord Arncourt's daughter and great heiress.
As for me, I care but little whose daughter I am ; my
life is all darkened."
" My lord," said Madame de St. Lance, " I pray you
to pardon me. I have never been happy ; I have
always been sorry that I did it. I have had a weight
on my mind, a burden on my conscience, that has given
me no peace. I believe that whether this had hap¬
pened or not, I must have told you sooner or later."
I I always thought you had some terrib.c secret on
your mind, madame," said Eric. "You have always
had the saddest face of any woman I ever saw."
" I was wretched. But let me own all my sin ; I
yielded to temptation partly from fear of poverty, and
partly because I loved Reine so dearly; she was so
beautiful, so bright, I could not bear to think of her
living always in poverty and exile. I thought she
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
249
would come here as Lord Arncourt's daughter, that she
would marry well; then, when her position was secured,
I cared little whether my deception was known or not.
I cannot justify myself, but I did love her most dearly."
" She has ill repaid your love," said Eric.
Then madame raised her face to Lord Arncourt.
" My lord," she said, humbly, " I pray you to pardon
me. I ask your forgiveness for the grievous wrong I
have done you."
"You have it," said Lord Arncourt, as he raised
her ; you should not kneel to me, madame. I pardon
you—it was a woman s temptation, and you yielded to
it. More grievous harm might have been done, but I
thank Heaven we have discovered all in time to avoid
it. Madame, you have my full pardon ; there can never
more be confidence hetween us, but you shall not have
one reproach from me; and let me add, the poverty you
dreaded shall not be yours—I will provide for you."
Then he went to Reine.
" As for you, my poor, unhappy child,'-' he said, " I
will reproach you no more—your sin has found you
out ; you have narrowly escaped being a murderess.
In gratitude to Heaven, I implore you to lead a better
life, and repent of your sins."
Not one feature of her proud face changed; her lips
did not quiver, her hands did not tremble.
" You have never loved me, Lord Arncourt; you
have always liked Belle best."
" I have been the kindest of fathers to you, Reine,"
he said ; " but to tell you the truth, I was always dis¬
appointed in you because you had no heart."
" No heart !" she repeated, bitterly ; " yet I have
ruined myself for love." She looked round on them all
with a mocking smile. " It is like the close of a melo¬
drama," she said. " Virtue—that is Belle—triumphs,
marries, and lives happily ever afterward. Vice—which
I personify—is punished for all sins, and lives misera¬
bly. Let me ask one question; I have owned my
crime; I confess freely that I tried to kill Belle ; that I
did it, hoping that if she died Eric Chilvers would
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
marry me. I thought that in time I might win his
love. I find now that I was mistaken ; that there can
be no such love for me. I own my crime, and I wish
to ask, " Are you going to punish me for it ?' I do not
care ; my life is darkened forever. If you decide on
sending me to prison, I go willingly. What does it
matter whether I am in a palace or a prison ? If you
send me to trial, I shall plead guilty, and be trans¬
ported, I suppose. I do not care in the least; but I
should like to know if you are willing to tell me what
you intend doing ? "
" It is my daughter whom you have injured," said
Lord Arncourt, " but I have no wish to punish you.
You may go free, yet I should like to hear that you
repent of your sin."
"It, is my promised wife whom you have tried to
send to her death," said Eric, "but I will not punish
you. I, too, should like to know that you repent of
your sin.
" I am not one of the repenting kind," said Reine.
" But if it were to be done over again, and I had the hopes
of winning your love, Eric, I should do it; you cannot
call that repentance, and that is the true state of my
mind. You have decided not to punish me. Madame,
you are one of those who sit in judgment on me ; am I
to be punished, or go free ; will you accuse me, or shall
I escape ?"
" I leave you to Heaven," said madame, with pale,
trembling lips.
" I am very much afraid that Heaven will have
nothing to do with me," said Reine, with a smile. " I
am to go free, then. I shall go away where no one can
even look upon me again—none of you, I mean. I
might have been good, now ; I choose evil as my
portion, and I go deliberately to the bad. You will not
hear of me again. "
" Reine," said Lord Arncourt, " be persuaded by
those who have your interest at heart. I will provide
for you. True, you cannot remain here, nor, with my
consent, shall you ever see Belle again ; but I will pro-
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
vide a home and an income for you if you will be
reasonable and accept it."
" Thank you," she replied ; you are kinder than I
deserve."
But they remembered afterward that she did not
promise to avail herself of his kindness.
'' You must not see Belle again," continued Lord
Arncourt; "and because you have been as my child,
because I have loved you, because you are young, with
a long life before you, I promise you one thing: The
knowledge of your shameful crime shall be kept a
secret, no one shall know it, with this exception—Sir
William Hailbury. We must tell hiin ; but he, I am
quite sure, will never betray you ; so that if you will
only repent, you may have a long and happy life before
you yet."
Her face flushed for one moment.
" You are kinder to me than I deserve," she said.
" I shall always remember that."
And before they could prevent her, or say another
word, she was gone !
CHAPTER LIII.
" you will not forgive me ? "
Sir William Hailbury was not so much astonished
as one would have imagined. He listened to Lord Arn-
court's long story without comment. When it was
ended, he looked calmly at the nobleman's excited face.
Do you know," he said, "none of this surprises
me very much. I thought that the young lady was
more French than English; and she seemed to me to
have every qualification both for the height of good and
the depth of evil. I should not have been surprised to
252
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION
have heard that she had done the greatest and most
heroic deeds, nor am I surprised to find that she has
attempted an atrocious crime ; it is ten thousand pities
that she has gone wrong. What do you intend doing
with her, my lord ? "
" I thought of settling an income upon madame, and
asking her to return to France. The girl is so young
there is a hope of her improvement."
But the wise old physician shook his head.
" I am afraid not," he said. " When a woman of her
force of character, her strength of will, goes wrong, the
chances are a hundred to one that she never reforms."
" I hope she will," said Lord Arncourt. " I really
loved the girl, believing her to be my own daughter. I
am sure there are capabilities of good in her, if she had
only been differently trained."
Lord Arncourt was looking thoughtfully over the
green trees.
"T am surprised," he said, " that this idea never
struck me before. I have always thought that Belle so
greatly resembled my lost wife, not in features—my wife
was as fair as a lily—but in her gentle, graceful, half-
timid, half-coy, pretty ways. She has the same sensi¬
tive, loving, gentle heart, while Reine has all the pride
and hauteur of her race; she is perfectly French, with
the imperious notions of the grand old noblesse. What
a sad thing it is ! and, in some measure, I blame my¬
self."
" Why ? " asked Sir William, briefly.
" In the first place, because I neglected my child for
so many years ; and in the second, because I fear greatly
that I encouraged Reine's liking for Eric Chilvers."
" In what way ? " asked Sir William.
" I allowed her to see how pleased I should be with a
marriage between them. I threw her continually in his
society ; I never omitted any opportunity of praising
him. I feel that I have been greatly to blame ; still, I
must do the best I can for her now. Sir William, you
will keep all this unfortunate matter a secret ? "
" You may rely upon me. In my profession I have
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION\
253
met with even stranger things than that. It will have
to be known some time or other."
"It must be known soon," said Lord Arncourt. "I
must do full justice to my own daughter, and I cannot
do that without exposing madame's fraud. I shall say
as little about it as possible, but it must be done. 1
shall send a paragraph to the Times ; that will go round
all the papers in England. We must bear patiently all
the annoyances that result. It will be ' Romance in
High Life,' ' Romance of the Peerage ;' but when the
nine days ' wonder is over, it will all die away, and in
the course of time people will forget it. I shall see that
it is done at once. We have said nothing to Belle at
present; but do you think she is in danger now ? "
" No," replied Sir William. " The danger was caused
by the poison ; now that that has ceased, the illness
itself will cease. She will soon he strong and well again,
but of course she will require care."
" Would you advise us to tell her what has passed ? "
asked Lord Arncourt.
'• Only some portion of it; and not even that just
yet. Of course she must know that she is your daughter,
but I think that if I were in your place I should never
tell her that the girl she loved as a sister had tried to
poison her. The knowledge could do her no good, and
might do her harm. If you take my advice, you will
never allow her to know that."
" I think you are very wise," replied Lord Arncourt.
"She will, without doubt, be stronger and better in a
few days ; then I will tell her myself all that it is desirable
for her to know. To you, Sir William, I tender my
most sincere and heartfelt thanks. You have flot only
been physician, but friend."
This conversation took place on the day after the
fatal discovery. Dr. Grant had heard nothing of it.
" The fewer people admitted to the knowledge of
such a secret, the better," thought Lord Arncourt.
Dr. Grant was told that the culprit had been dis¬
covered, but that the whole matter, for many reasons,
254
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
would be buried in oblivion. He made no further
inquiries, and he never knew the secret.
They had all separated on that fatal night. Madame
had returned to the patient, Reine to her room. The
two gentlemen went away together. As Eric was
leaving the room, Reine went up to him.
" I have been very bad," she said, <l bad and wicked
but, Erie, say one word to me. It was for love of you
that I sinned my sin."
But he turned impatiently away.
" I forgive you," he said ; " but—pardon me—I can¬
not say one kind word to you who have so nearly killed
my promised wife."
But she caught his hand in hers and kissed it pas¬
sionately. The touch of her lips burned him like fire.
He never forgot the expression of her face as she raised
it to his.
"You will not forgive me?" she said; "you will
not speak kindly to me ? Ah, well, be it so! Good-by ! "
There was not much sleep that night for those who
had taken part in that terrible scene. The strangest
thing was, that Belle did not seem to have noticed any¬
thing particular. She believed implicitly the story
madame had told her, that Reine had gone in to see
her, and had upset the lamp, and the noise of it falling
had brought Lord Arncourt and Eric. •
She accepted the explanation with the perfect
languor and good faith of an invalid to whom nothing
seems very strange.
Lord Arncourt did not even return to his room ; he
was unhappy, bewildered, and anxious. It seemed such
a- stran'ge, terrible interruption to his life. But he re¬
solved to see Reine on the morrow, and make arrange¬
ments for her going away at once.
" I should never fancy that my dear Belle was safe
under the same roof with her," he thought. " Poor
little Nina, Alice's little child ! Ah, me, it has been an
unhappy story altogether."
Sir William, who had been ill able to spare the time
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION. 255
from his patients, returned to London on the morning
following. He made no attempt to see Reine.
" I could do her no good," he thought. " And after
seeing her so bright and beautiful, I do not care to dim
my memory of her by seeing her in the hour of her
adversity and shame.
He paid Belle a farewell visit, and was pleased to
find her looking so much better. He held the wasted
hand in his.
" You feel better," he said ; " I need not ask."
She looked up at him with a grateful smile.
" What has become of the dark presentiment ?" he
asked.
" It is gone," she replied ; " and that, I suppose, is
because I am better. I feel like one who has been
under a dark cloud ; the cloud is passed, and the sun is
shining again. It must be because I am better."
" I hope the next news I have from Neversle'igh will
be your marriage," he said, with a smile.
Then he thought how very fair she was, with that
deep, tender light in her eyes."
Sir William went away ; and it so happened that
Belle never saw him in this world again.
The same day Lord Arncourt sent for Reine ; but
she was nowhere to be found. She had left a little
note for him. It said :
" Do not try to look for me ; you will never see me in
this world again. If I had been happy I might have
been good ; but it is too late for goodness. Do not
make any effort to find me. I shall know the quiet
ways of peace and content no more. Men in their
misery take to drinking ; I shall take to something else.
I shall plunge into the maddest whirl of excitement*that
I can find, and in it forget you all. I should have been
good if Eric had loved me ; as it is, I have no hope. In
saying good-by to you, I repeat that I am very pleased
that I did not, after all, kill poor pretty, loving Belle."
Lord Arncourt read that letter with tears in his eyes.
Despite his anger and most righteous indignation, he
felt the greatest pity for the brilliant, beautiful girl
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
whose lot in life was so unhappy, who had boomed her-
self to so wretched a lot.
He did make some little effort toward finding her,
but all in vain ; there was no trace of her. Lord Arn-
court was not altogether sorry. It could not be pleasant
for her, he thought, to see any of them ; still he would
have been far better pleased if he could have known
where she was, what she was doing, how she was sub¬
sisting, and all about her.
With madame he had more trouble; she was un¬
willing to leave him. She begged permission to wait
until Belle was well; she prayed that she might remain,
even as the meanest servant in the household—anything,
if he would only consent to her remaining. She was
attached to him—she was fonder of Belle than of any
one or anything in the wide world. Reine had been
such a bitter disappointment to her, that she concentra¬
ted all her love and care on the daughter left to .her
—for Belle was, and always had been to her, as her own
child.
But Lord Arncourt was firm ;. there had been evil
enough—there should be no more. He insisted upon
it that madame should return to France. He settled a
very handsome annuity on her.
" Let me stay with you," she said. " France is fair
France no longer ; my race are proscribed ; there is no
longer a rood of ground in that sweet country of the sun
that calls me mistress. My friends are dead—nothing
remains for me there. And Belle is here. Let me
stay."
But he resisted thatprayeras he had done all others.
So it was arranged that madame should return, not to
the land of poetry and song, sunny Provence, but to
Paris, where she could in some measure enjoy her life.
The only concession that Lord Arncourt could be pre¬
vailed upon to make was that she might remain with
them till Belle recovered, and for that madame was
grateful. •
They found that Reine had taken nothing with her.
All the jewels, the costly presents that Lord Arncourt
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
257
had given her, were there ; she had not taken one single
thing away with her. The rich dresses, the priceless
lace, the costly shawls, the jeweled fans, the dainty slip¬
pers were all there, not one was disarranged. She had
gone away empty-handed.
But some time after this, when Lord Arncourt was
looking over some miniatures that he had by him, he saw
that one of Eric Chilvers had been cut away. He felt
sure at once that she had done it. The only thing 01*
all the rich and valuable possessions that she had taken
away with her was the portrait of the man whom she
had loved so dearly, and who had made known her
crime. Tears rose again to his eyes as he thought of it
—poor, lost, unhappy Reine !
That same day he called his whole household together,
and told them the truth. He said nothing to them of
madame's fault—he left them to infer that. All he said
was that a great mistake had been made, and that his
daughter was not the young lady they had been accus¬
tomed to call Miss Arncourt, but the one they had
known as Miss de St. Lance. Even then opinions dif¬
fered—there were many who preferred the imperious
rule of proud, willful, capricious Reine to the more
gentle dominion of Belle.
CHAPTER LIV.
" YOU DESERVE ALL THE KINDNESS IN THE WORLD "
" I cannot imagine how it is," said Belle, a few days
after this, " that Reine never comes near me. I have
asked for her until I am tired, mamma. Why does she
not come ? "
Madame looked anxiously at the pale face ; she war
wondering when the girl would be strong enough to
hear what sire had to tell her
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
" Surely," continued Belle, " she is not angry with
me. I have not offended her. When we were children
I used to displease her without ever having the least
idea why. I am afraid that I have done so now. Since
that night when she came in to me, and I was sleeping, I
have never seen her."
Still madame made no answer, and Belle went on :
" You do not know how often I dream of her, and
she is always in my dreams, saying to me that she is
sorrv—sorry for what, I wonder ? "
" My dear Belle," began madame, "you have, as you
know, been very ill."
" I am much better though," she interrupted, eagerly.
"You do not know how much stronger I feel every
hour."
" While you were so ill," continued madame, " Reine
went to France ; she will be there, in all probability, for
some time. We did not tell you before, thinking it
might distress you."
The sweet face fell, and the sensitive lips quivered:
" Gone! Oh, mamma! I am so sorry, and she
never came to say good-bye."
" You were so ill," said madame, " we did not like
to disturb you."
" If I was so very ill, mamma, how could Reine leave
me ? I would not have left her ; it seems very strange."
"You must remember, my dear," said madame,
" that although you were so ill as to render any kind of
agitation unadvisable for you, still the doctors told us
we need not fear for your life."
" And does she know—have you told her how much
better I am ? Does she know that I am recovering?"
" I think so—I am sure so," replied madame.
" I must write to her, my hands are strong enough
now to hold a pen."
Madame evaded any direct reply.
" Another few days," she thought, " and she will be
strong enough to hear it all."
So one morning Lord Arncourt went into her room,
and Belle held out her pretty white hands to him.
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
259
" I am so pleased to see you," she said. " I have
been longing to thank you for all your kindness to me
since I have been. ill. I do not think any one was ever
so kind."
He bent down and kissed the frail, wasted hands, and
the white, sweet face.
"You deserve all the kindness in the world," he
said ; " and you are repaying it in the best manner
possible, by getting well. Belle, are you strong enough
to bear a great surprise ? "
" I think so," she replied. " Any surprise you bring
me must be agreeable, I am sure. Is it about Reine ? "
Her thoughts were always running on Reine.
" Not all of her," replied Lord Arncourt.
Then, sitting down by her side, he told her all.
Belle was at first incredulous.
" I never knew madame to speak falsely in all her
life. I cannot think that she committed the fraud ; and
yet, do you know, papa—oh, the word comes so naturally
to me—do you know I have strange memories. I have
often thought that I remembered your face; that I
remember coming from some pretty home all buried in
flowers, a long, long journey with you. Your face was
younger then, and stern and cold.
" My dearest child, if you had remembered this, why
did you never tell me ? "
" I was afraid you would laugh at me," she replied.
" I used to think such strange things—that I had lived
before, and had known you in a another life. I dare not
.tell you all the quaint, strange dreams that I have had."
" But, Belle, my darling, I wish that you had done
so; it would have thrown a light upon what, in some
way, is still a mystery. I cannot imagine what induced
a noble, honorable woman like madame to yield to such
a temptation."
"I can," replied Belle. "Though I quite believed
that I was her own daughter, I could not help seeing
that she loved Reine best. She was so fond of her, and
so proud of her. I know that her one great dread was
always lest she should be too poor to allow any brilliant.
260
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
future to fall to Reine's lot. She used to look at her
and sigh so deeply. I think niadarne loved her better
then all the world ; the idea of being able to place her
out of the reach of all poverty must have been very
tempting to her. You may depend upon it, it was all
for Reine's sake."
"So I think; but she is such a noble woman. She
must have been very wretched over.it."
" It was a woman's temptation," said Belle, musingly.
" It could not have overtaken a man ; yet it seems very
strange, for I have always loved and honored you so
greatly. I cannot even love you any better now that I
know I am your own child ;" and the sweet, happy eyes
were raised to his.
It was characteristic of Belle that she thought more
of the joy and happiness of discovering her father than
she did of madame's sin.
Lord Arncourt clasped her in his arms.
"You must love me very much, Belle," he said.
" You have your mother's sweet, winning way with you,
you have her generous nature, her loving heart. We
shall be very happy, Belle."
She kissed him. She listened with a smile to his
tender words, then she looked at him and said:
" Does Reine feel it much, papa ? I wish it could be
arranged that she should continue to be your heiress
and your adopted child. I am quite content with your
love,"
" That cannot be, dear child ; you must have what
belongs to you."
" I know you will make Reine rich," she continued.
"You always loved Reine; you will not let this make
any difference to her."
" I think," said Lord Arncourt, with a smile. " that
you have always loved Reine. How much you think
about her! What a faithful little heart yours is, Belle."
" She is my sister," said the girl. "It would indeed
be strange if I did not love her. When is she coming
home, papa ? I long to see her; I long to tell her that
this will never make any difference to us. She is so
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
261
noble, my Reine, with all her little faults of temper ; so
noble, that I am sure she would never count as her disap¬
pointment that which is my gain. I long to see her, to
tell her we will be sisters still, as of old, only that she
must have the best of everything. When is she coming
back ? "
Then Lord Arncourt told the girl, kindly. Holding
her hands in his own, he said :
" She is never coming back to us, Belle. You must
learn to live without Reine ; she will never come back
again."
Lord Arncourt did not disturb the conviction that
he saw had taken possession of Belle. She always
believed that it was from angry disappointment at learn¬
ing the truth that Reine had run away. Belle always
believed that the proud, willful, capricious girl left Never-
sleigh in an anger because madame had told her the
truth, and in this opinion she was allowed to remain.
Before long Belle had recovered her strength, and
then, to her great surprise, she found herself famous
The story had gone abroad, and had been received with
great favor by the great world. It was a new sensation.
Such things had been read of in novels, in the romantic
annals of the peerage; but this was the first time that
most people had known such a case in real life. Belle
was famous. People al.l remembered the beautiful, proud,
dark-eyed girl who for one season had been queen of
the great world, and many were the questions asked as
to her whereabouts, but by that time madame had re¬
turned to France, and Lord Arncourt always said that
both the ladies had left Neversleigh.
One thing touched him deeply. Among those who
read the story was the Earl of Brandon, Reine's hand¬
some eager young lover ; and when he had read it, he
went at once to Neversleigh, and asked to see Lord Arn¬
court. He pointed to the paragraph, and with a flushed
face, he cried :
" Where is she ? tell me where she is. I shall not
rest till I have laid my fortune, my name, and my love
at her feet again.
262
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
" I cannot tell you," replied Lord Arncourt, earnestly;
" I do not know. I may tell you, but I would tell no
one else, that she left us of her own free will, and we
have heard nothing of her since."
" She was so proud," said Lord Brandon ; " she could
not, I suppose, brook the idea of remaining nere after
her mother's fraud was known."
Lord Arncourt allowed him to remain in that opinion,
and the young earl loved him all the better for it.
" Love is omnipotent," he said, gravely ; " I shall find
her, I shall shall search the whole world through till I
have found her, and I shall make her Lady Brandon ;
you will see."
He spent years in his search ; he spent a fortune
in it, but he never found her. He loved her better than
he had ever done any women living, but his love never
prospered. Years afterward he married a gentle, high¬
bred girl, whose chief merit in his eyes was that her
face, in its dark, proud beauty, somewhat resembled
Reine's. He married her, but he never gave to any
other woman such love as he had given to Reine.
The parting between Madame de St. Lance and Belle
had been very painful. Eelle suspected nothing ; she
always thought that madame was going to rejoin Reine
in France, whereas it so happened that mother and
daughter never in this life met again.
Madame returned to her fair land of France. For
some little time she lived in Paris, but the desire to find
Reine overpowered her. She broke up the little home ;
she spent the remainder of her life in traveling from
one city to another, always looking, and looking in vain,
for her lost Reine. They never met; and madame, the last
of the De St. Lances—she who had feted kings and had
been surrounded bv princes—she was found dead in the
room of a hotel at Cologne where she was staying. There
was no sumptuous monument to mark where she rested
no pomp of words to tell that she who had once been
the most beautiful and honored woman in France lay
in an unknown grave.
By Belle's wish and desire her marriage was a very
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
263
quiet one. It took place in May, when the meadows
were sweet with clover, and the hedges sweet with
blossom. She had regained her health and strength
then, but it was easy to see how the loving, gentle heart
longed for Reine.
" Am I not enough, Belle ? " asked Eric, one day,
when she was lamenting that she was to be married
without Reine; "am I not enough for you ?"
She held out her hand to him.
" I could not love you more dearly," she cried ; "but
I do miss my sister Reine."
" They were married in the sweet breath of flowers;
and Eric, wishing to cheer Belle and restore her lost
brightness took her to the Scotch lakes for their honey¬
moon. Lord Arncourt was delighted over the marriage ;
it seemed to him most feasible and most natural that
his daughter and his heir should be united. But all
that day—the day of their marriage—he was haunted
by the beautiful face of unhappy Reine.
It was arranged that when they returned from their
wedding tour, Eric and his fair young wife should live
at Neversleigh , "and then," said Lord Arncourt "there
need be no more parting for us—until death.''
CHAPTER. LV.
" just what life has made me."
They tell, even now, in the gay, sunny city of Pari?
of the wondrous beauty of the girl who came there sud¬
denly, no one knew from whence. She was wondrously
lovely ; men lost their hearts by one look at her perfect
face. But the same face, beautiful as it was, had a story
in it.
She had many lovers, the lady who owned this beauti¬
ful face; but she was never known to love. She was
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
gay, willful, capricious, proud, and defiant ; she was
adorable; men bowed before her as the heathens of old
before their idols ; she ruled men's hearts with a queen¬
ly sway ; she bent their will; even the strongest could
not stand against her.
She was the most charming of all enchantresses, no
one could resist her; yet a man had far better have
given his heart to a marble statue than to her. She
took all—she gave nothing. '
Her smiles were deadliest poison; a glance from her
dark eyes fatal as death. A tigress had more pity than
she: she spared no man—the young, the rich, the noble,
all fell alike helpless in her power.
It was play to her to win a man's heart, to torture it,
then to fling it back, laughing in his face. It was play
to her to see a man go through all the agony of unhappy
love ; she had no mercy, no pity, no compassion.
Men knew what she was ; they saw her victims fall
one after another ; they warned each other against her ;
and yet, like the moth round the candle, they fluttered
and fell.
It was death for her bright, .proud eyes to rest upon
a man's face—death ; for the glance was sure to attract
him ; he was sure to love her, and all love for her had
the same ending. She spared no one. Youth, fair
promise, fair hope, fair name, all fell before her; yet
those who saw her most often, and knew her best, could
tell that all her gayety was forced, her brilliancy as¬
sumed ; that her wit was cruel, her sarcasm left a sting.
They called her the Queen of Bohemia, and she was
proud of the title.
Who she was, where she came from, what brought
her to that sunny city of Paris, no one knew. The
only thing that could be told of her was, she was a ladv,
she had been well-born, well bred, she was accustomed
to the forms of good society. Beyond that nothing was
known.
She had no mercy. Tell her of young lovers who
had a life all fair before them, she would utter some
cruel sarcasm, before which those who were speaking
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
265
to her winced. Talk to her of love, she would laugh
the words to scorn. Tell her of happiness and peace,
she would scoff at the words.
" You are the most brilliant, the most beautiful, and
the most cruel woman I have ever met," said a great
Russian prince to her once.
" I am just what life has made me," she replied.
They showed her once the body of a fair-haired
young captain, whom love for her had driven mad. She
had smiled upon him ; she had taken his heart from his
breast ; she had given him languid glances from her
wondrous eyes—and he worshiped her. She took his
heart, young, eager, happy, full of fair hopes and pro¬
mise;" she had trampled it under her feet, and gave it
back to him broken. He went mad for love of her.
And when they told her he was mad, she laughed.
" Others have lost more, yet have kept their reason,"
she said.
In his madness he slew himself; they showed her
his body with stains of blood on the fair hair and the
comely face.
"I would change places with him," she said, "if it
were not cowardly to kill one's self."
And as she.looked at him no gleam of pity passed
over the proud beauty of her face.
" Do you hate the whole race of men ? and have you
some vengeance against them ? " a great writer asked
her one day, and she laughed a dreary, low laugh.
" If I lived forever," she said, " I could not avenge
the wrong I have received."
Yet cold, and fatal, and deadly as her smiles were,
cruel as a tigress, utterly devoid of pity and compassion,
men crowded around her, and never wearied of admir¬
ing her. She had that fatal gift of beauty which some
of the wisest men are powerless to resist.
She lived in one whirl of excitement. She knew no
rest, no peace. There were people who said she never
slept; the beautiful, restless face seemed always ex¬
pectant of something that never happened. She never,
entered a church; she dreaded the darkness; she
266
a woman's temhtatw
could not endure solitude ; she would not give herself
time to think. " More ! more ! " she seemed always to
cry. There was no brilliant revel in that world of hers
in which she did not take the lead. There was no ex¬
travagance in which she did not take the principal part.
There was no gayety so wild but that she joined it, yet
always the same—cold, proud, and cruel. Men ruined
themselves for her sake, and in return they won per¬
haps a haughty smile, a word so brilliant in its wit, so
pointed in its sarcasm, that it was repeated as an
epigram ever afterward. She lived in the utmost
state and splendor ; no queen had jewels more grand.
She ate from dishes of gold and silver, she had dresses
that cost some of them a small fortune; yet she seemed
always to trample her magnificence under her feet;
it was less than nothing.
A great duke gave her a diamond that he said had
come from a rajah's crown. She looked at it calmly,
then laid it down as though it had been a worthless
stone.
" You do not seem to value it," he said, half angry
to see how coolly she treated his magnificent gift.
"/value a jewel !" she said. "If all the diamonds
of Golconda were here, they would not give me one
minute's pleasure."
" I wish I knew what would please you," he said.
" Nothing," she replied. " There is no more pleas¬
ure and no more pain for me."
So through the long brilliant years she lived, and
they said no woman living had such luxury, such admir¬
ation, as fell to her lot ; they said no woman living had
done more harm by her pride, her beauty, and her
cruelty.
She never softened but once, and that was when a
dangerous illness had brought her to the gates of death.
o o o
Then, when she believed herself to be dying, she bade
one of her attendants unlock a tiny ivory box that never
left her room.
They brought her a little miniature that lay there,
the handsome face of a young Englishman. She took
A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
267
it and looked at it long and earnestly ; tears rained
down her face ; she kissed the picture with a passionate
cry.
" Oh, Eric ! Eric ! " she said, " I might have been
good, I might have been happy, if you had only loved
me."
But she did not die, and the miniature was replaced
in the box. If she fetched it out in the dead of night,
and wept bitter tears over it, no one knew. She recov¬
ered, and in a few days was her old brilliant, beautiful
self.
" I hope," she said, " that I shall die here in Paris,
and be buried in Pere le Chaise."
"What name, my queen, would you have placed on
your gravestone ? " asked one of her courtiers.
" No name at all," she replied. " Only one word.
One word will express the whole of my life."
" And what may that one word be ? " he asked.
She looked at him with calm, proud eyes.
" That one word is ' Disappointed,' " she said ; "and
it will express all that a volume could not tell."
##**#*
A beautiful summer's evening. Belle and Eric are
standing on the lawn at Neversleigh. Fair-haired chil¬
dren are playing round her, and one of them comes up
to her.
" Mamma," says the child, " you are not smiling to¬
day. What has made you sad ? "
" I am not sad, darling, only thoughtful," she re¬
plied ; and the little one wisely .remarked :
" I think all grown-up people are sad when they
think. If I were you, I would not think, mamma."
She kissed the child, bidding him go to play. Then
Eric turned to her.
"You do look sad, and thoughtful, too, Belle. Why
is it?"
" I have been thinking all day of Reine," she re¬
plied •• Oh, Eric, I think" it so strange. We lived as
sisters ; we loved each other so dearly. Yet she has
2 63 A WOMAN'S TEMPTATION.
been gone from us ten years, and we have never heard
one word.''
" It is strange," he said. " But, Belle, you have
many others to love ; you must not let yourself grow
sad in thinking over Reine. She is happy, without
doubt, in her own fashion."
If he had seen the Queen of Bohemia he would not
have said so. Even as he spoke, his conscience re¬
proached him. There could be no happiness in this
world for Reine.
" I loved her so dearly I cannot forget her," said
Belle.
And,he, looking at his wife's sweet face, thanked
Heaven that she did not and never would, know the
story of Reine's crime.
THE END.
Alarmed at the Condition
of her surroundings, with friends and family thoroughly disgusted by tfte
accumulation of dirt from cellar to garret, and parlor to kitchen, many a
woman undertakes a gigantic reform in one chapter and in one week.
Life is rendered almost unendurable during that time, and at the end of it
she—th*j heroine of the house-cleaning,—collapses, arid goes to bed for a
fortnight. If she used Sapolio every week in the year the dirt would he
kept down, and the paint, and the pots and pans would be easily brightened
in a few hours, ,10c. a cake at all grocers.
'"a A« nun
GRAND, SQUARE AND UPRIGHT
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A. i',' preferred by leading Artists.
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Or, HILDA AND I.
BY E. BEDELL BENJAMIN.
One Volume, 12tno., Paper, 20 cfs.; Cloth, 35 cts.
Opinions of the Press.
" One of the most charming of recent novels."—Philadelphia Item,.
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it."—Sew York Daily Graphic.
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time. A real treat."—Portland Argus.
" What shall we say of a book in which is not one love story alone, but in
which three full-fledged ones are concentered ? The author writes not only
entertainingly, but she interweaves much that Is excellent in tone and com¬
mendable in precept and example."— Troy Whig.
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rapid to keep the reader interested to the very end. Some conversations on
music show that the author understands the divine art."—New York Evening
Mail.
"' Hilda anp I' is a rest to the weary after the turbulence of recent un¬
limited folios of tragedy. It is a rich feast of pleasantness in all possible
directions. Music, art and all charming things rise up before one in the right
place and at the proper moment."—.Veto York Home Journal.
" Fresh and breezy as sea air ; full of originality in plot and incident, with
well-drawn characters, who live and move with individuality and interest.
The heroine, Hilda, is at once charming, and a new creation in fiction."—
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a realistic standard, are not unnatural. The tone of the story is high, and its
moral excellent."—Bridgeport Standard.
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LOVELL'S LIBRARY-
LATEST I88UE8.
(564 At Bay, by Mrs. Alexander. 10
005 Mornings in Florence, by Buskin..15
GOG Barbara's Rival, by Emeeb Young .510
06? Story of a Sculptor, by Conway.. .10
663 St. Marks Jte^fc, by John Rin>kin..l5
0t>9 Hilda, by Bertha M Clay 10
67U Deucalion, by Buskin 10
671 The Scont, by Simins 15
G72 Slings and Arrows, by Conway 10
673 Art of England, by Buskin 15
674 The Wigwam and Cabin,by SimmsAO
675 A Rainy June, by Ouida 10
676 Eagle's Nest, by Ruskin 15
677 Vasconselos, by Simms .*70
678 White Heather, by Black 20
679 Our Fathers have Told Us, Ruskin.15
680 Confession, by Simms 30
681 A Girton Girl, by Mrs. Edwards...20
682 Proserpina, by Ruskin 15
683 The Ghost's T*mch, by Collins 10
684 Woodcraft, by Simms 30
685 Val d'Arno, by Ruskin 15
686 My Lady's Money, by Collins 10
687 Richard Hurdis, by Simms 30
688 Love's Meinie, by Ruskin 15
689 Her Martyrdom, by B. M. Clay. ..20
690 Guy Rivers, by Simms 30
691 A Woman's Honor, by Young ....20
692 Lord Lynne's Choice, B. M. Clay.. 10
693 Border Beagles, by W. G. Simms..30
694 The SJiadow of a Sin, B. M. Clay.. 10
695 Wedded and Parted, by B. M. Clay.10
696 The Master of the Mine,Buchanan.It)
697 The Foravers, by Simms 30
698 The Mistletoe Bough.M.E.Braddon.20
699 Self or Bearer, Walter Besant .. .10
700 In Cupid's Net, by B. M. Clay.... .10
701 Lady Darner's Secret, B. Ml Clay..20
702 Charlem >nt, by W. G. Simms SO
703 Eutaw, by \V. G. Simms 30
701 Evolution, R*v. C. F. Deems, D.D.20
705 Beauchampe, by W. G. Simms 30
706 N >. 99, by Arthur Griffiths 10
707 Fors Clavigera, by Ruskin. P't I. 30
708 Fors Clavigera, by Ruskin. P't II..30
709 Woman against Woman,by Holmes.20
710 Picciola, by J. X. B. Saintine. ..10
711 Undine, by Baron de la Motte
Fouque 10
712 Woman, by August Bebel...'. 30
713 Fors Clavigera, by Ruskin. P't III.80
714 Fors Clavigera, by Rrpkin. P't IY.80
715 A Cardinal Sin, by Hugh Conway 20
716 A Crimson Stain, AnnieBradshaw.20
717 ACountryGentleman.Mjrs.Oliphant.20
718 A Gilded Sin, by B. M. Clay 10
719 Rory O'More, by Samuel Lover... 20
720 Between Two Loves, B. M. Clay... 30
721 Lady Branksmere, by The Duchess. 20
722 The Evil Genius, bv Wilkie Collins.20
723 Running the Gauntlet, by Yates.. 20
724 Broken to Harness, Edmund Yates.20
725 Dr. Wilmer's Lovar\ltorgarapYfc»fln£5
726 Austin Eliot, by
727 For Another's Sin, by B. M. Clay. .20
728 TheHJlyars and Burtons. Kingsiey 20
729 In Prison and Out, by Stretton .. 20
730 Romance of a Young Girl, by Clay.20
731 Leightou Cour', by Kingsiey 20
732 Victory Deaue, by Cecil Griffith. .20
733 A Queen amongst Women, by Clay.10
734 Vineta, by E. Werner. 20
785 A Mental Struggle, The Duche-s. 20
716 Geoffrey Hamlyn, by H Kingsiey. 30
737 The Haunted Chamber, tkDucbess'\10
738 A Golden Dawn, by B. M. Clay.... 10
739 Like no Other Love, by B. M. Clay .10
740 A Bitter Atonement, by B. M. Clay .20
741 Lorimerand Wife, by Margaret Lee.2U
742 Social Solutions No. 1, by Howland.10
743 A Woman's Vengeance, by Holmes.20
744 Evelyn's Folly, by B. M. Clay 20
745 Living or Dead, by Hugh Conway..20
746 Beaton's Bargain. Mrs. Alexander. .20
747 Social Solutions, No. 2, by Rowland.10
748 Our Roman Palace, by Beuj imifr—20—
749 Mayor of Casterbridgo, by Hardy. 20
750 Somebody's Story,by Hnsih Conway.10
751 King Arthur, by Miss Mtilock 20
752 Set in Diamonds, by B. M. Clay.. 20
753 Social Solutions, No. 3, by Howland.10
754 A Modern Midas, by Maurice Jokai.20
755 A Fallen Idol, by F. Anstey 20
756 Conspiracy, by Adam Badeau... .25
757 Doris' Fortune, by F. Warden 10
753 Cynic Fortune, by D. C. Murray...10
759 Foul Play, by Chas. Reade 20
760 Fair Women, by Mrs. Forrester 20
761 Count of Monte Cristo, Tart I., by
Alexandre Dumas 20
761 Count of Monte Cristo, Fart II., by
Alexandre Dumas 20
762 Social Solutions, No. 4, by Howl&nd.lU
763 Moths, by Ouida 20
764 A Fair Mystery, by Bertha M. Clav.20
765 Social Solutions. No. 5, by Howland.10
766 Vixen, by Miss Braddon 20
767 Kidnapped, by R. L. Stevenson... 20
768 The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and
Mr. H\de, by R. L. Stevenson. 10
769 Prince Otto, by R. L. Stevenson.. .10
770 The Dynamiter, byR. L. Stevenson.20
771 The Old Mam'selle'e Secret, by E.
Marlitt 20
772 Mysteries of Paris, Part I., by Sue.20
772 Mysteries of Paris, Part II., by Sue.20
773 Put Yourself in His Place, by Reade 20
774 Social Solutions, No. 6, by Howl.md.10
775 The Three Guardsmen, by Dumas.20
776 The Wandering .lew, Part I.,by Sue.20
776 The Wandering Jew. Part II., bySue.2h
777 A Second Life, by Mrs. Alexander.20
778 Social Solutions. No. 7. by Howland.10
7?9 My Friend Jim, bv W. E. Norris..l0
70 Bad to Beat, by Hawley Smart. 10
781 Betty's Visions, bv Broughton 15
17WiciaCSQutions. No. 8, by Howland.10
Ttie fetroroon, by Miss Braddon,... 10
Any of the above can be obtained from all booksellers and newsdealers, or wdl be
•ent free by mail, on receipt of price, by the publishers.
JOHN W. LCWELL COMPANY,
Nos. 14 and 16 Vesf.y Street, New York.