once the fact that she was greatly changed. She made a
tremendous fuss over Girolamo, for whom a most sumptuous tea had been
prepared in his own nurseries, and Henry thought how sweet she was with
children and how divinely happy they would be in the future, when they
had some of their own!

But what had altered his beloved? Her face had lost its baby outline, it
seemed, and her violet eyes were full of deeper shadows than even they
had been in the first few days of their acquaintance at Carlsbad. He
must find all this out for himself directly they could be alone.

This chance, however, did not seem likely to be vouchsafed to him, for
on the plea of having such heaps to talk over with Moravia, Sabine
accompanied that lady to her room and did not appear again until they
were all assembled in the big _salon_ for dinner, where Madame Imogen,
who had returned the day before, was doing her best to add to the gaiety
of the party by her jolly remarks.

The lady of Heronac had hardly been able to control herself as she
waited for her guests' arrival and felt that to rush at Girolamo would
be her only hope. For that morning the post had brought the news that
the divorce would be granted by the end of January, and she would be
free! She had felt very faint as she had read Mr. Parsons' letter. No
matter how one might be expecting an axe to fall, when it does, the
shock must seem immense.

Sabine lay there and moaned in her bed. Then over her crept a fierce
resentment against Henry. Why should she be sacrificed to him? He was
forty years old, and had lived his life; and she was young, and had not
yet really begun to enjoy her's. How would she be able to bear it; or to
act even complaisance when every fiber of her being was turning in mad
passion and desire to Michael, her love?

Then her sense of justice resumed its sway. Henry at least was not to
blame--no one was to blame but her own self. And as she had proudly
agreed with Michael that every one must come up to the scratch, she must
fulfil her part. There was no use in being dramatic and deciding upon a
certain course as being a noble and disinterested one, and then in not
having the pluck to carry it through. She had prayed for guidance
indeed, and no light had come, beyond the feeling that she must stick
to her word.

The report of the case would be in the Scotch papers, and Michael
Arranstoun being such a person of consequence it would probably be just
announced in the