ion. He did not wish her to think that
she was not welcomed into his family; therefore he said, "I resign
myself to your promise and your diplomacy. Meanwhile, as you love me, be
kind to my betrothed."

"Am I not so?"

"Hem. Are you as kind as if she were the great heiress you believe
Violante to be?"

"Is it," answered Lady Lansmere, evading the question--"is it because
one is an heiress and the other is not that you make so marked a
difference in your own manner to the two; treating Violante as a spoilt
child, and Miss Digby as--"

"The destined wife of Lord L'Estrange, and the daughter-in-law of Lady
Lansmere,--yes."

The countess suppressed an impatient exclamation that rose to her lips,
for Harley's brow wore that serious aspect which it rarely assumed save
when he was in those moods in which men must be soothed, not resisted.
And after a pause he went on, "I am going to leave you to-day. I have
engaged apartments at the Clarendon. I intend to gratify your wish, so
often expressed, that I should enjoy what are called the pleasures of my
rank, and the privileges of single-blessedness,--celebrate my adieu to
celibacy, and blaze once more, with the splendour of a setting sun, upon
Hyde Park and May Fair."

"You are a positive enigma. Leave our house, just when you are betrothed
to its inmate! Is that the natural conduct of a lover?"

"How can your woman eyes be so dull, and your woman heart so obtuse?"
answered Harley, half laughing, half scolding. "Can you not guess that I
wish that Helen and myself should both lose the association of mere ward
and guardian; that the very familiarity of our intercourse under the
same roof almost forbids us to be lovers; that we lose the joy to meet,
and the pang to part. Don't you remember the story of the Frenchman, who
for twenty years loved a lady, and never missed passing his evenings at
her house. She became a widow. 'I wish you joy,' cried his friend; 'you
may now marry the woman you have so long adored.' 'Alas!' said the
poor Frenchman, profoundly dejected; 'and if so, where shall I spend my
evenings?'"

Here Violante and Helen were seen in the garden, walking affectionately
arm in arm.

"I don't perceive the point of your witty, heartless anecdote," said
Lady Lansmere, obstinately. "Settle that, however, with Miss Digby.
But to leave the very day after your friend's daughter comes as a
guest!--what will she think of it?"

Lord L'Estrange looked steadfastly at hi