not made for sighs,
but smiles. Begin----'

'Well, then, the young Duke----'

'The deuce!' said Sir Lucius, alarmed.

'Oh! no! make yourself easy,' said Mrs. Dallington, smiling; 'no
counterplot, I assure you, although really you do not deserve to
succeed.'

'Then who is it?' eagerly asked Sir Lucius.

'You will not let me speak. The young Duke----'

'Damn the Duke!'

'How impatient you are, Lucy! I must begin with the beginning. Well, the
young Duke has something to do with it.'

'Pray be explicit.'

'In a word, then,' said Mrs. Dallington, in a low voice, but with an
expression of earnestness which Sir Lucius had never before remarked, 'I
am in love, desperately in love, with one whom hitherto, in accordance
with your wishes, I have been driving into the arms of another.
Our views, our interests are opposite; but I wish to act fairly, if
possible; I wish to reconcile them; and it is for this purpose that I
have summoned you this morning.'

'Arundel Dacre!' said Sir Lucius, quietly, and he rapped his cane on his
boot. The blood-red spot again rose in his companion's cheek.

There was silence for a moment. Sir Lucius would not disturb it, and
Mrs. Dallington again spoke.

'St. James and the little Dacre have again met. You have my secret. I do
not ask your good services with Arundel, which I might at another time;
but you cannot expect me to work against myself. Depend, then, no longer
on my influence with May Dacre; for to be explicit, as we have always
been, most heartily should I rejoice to see her a duchess.'

'The point, Bertha,' said Sir Lucius, very quietly, 'is not that I can
no longer count upon you as an ally; but I must, I perceive, reckon you
an opponent.'

'Cannot we prevent this?' asked Mrs. Dallington with energy.

'I see no alternative,' said Sir Lucius, shaking his head with great
unconcern. 'Time will prove who will have to congratulate the other.'

'My friend,' said Mrs. Dallington, with briskness and decision, 'no
affectation between us. Drop this assumed unconcern. You know, you know
well, that no incident could occur to you at this moment more mortifying
than the one I have communicated, which deranges your plans, and
probably may destroy your views. You cannot misconceive my motives in
making this not very agreeable communication. I might have pursued my
object without your knowledge and permission. In a word, I might have
betrayed you. But with me every consideration has yiel