nued absence made
her anxious. But if he should come to be taken, surely his punishment
would be merely a formal matter; at the worst he might be sent home,
which would a very good thing, for after all the climate of the
Peninsula had never quite suited him.

In this fashion she nimbly pursued a train of vitiated logic, passing
from inconsequence to inconsequence. And O'Moy, thankful that she should
take such a view this--mercifully hopeful that the last had been heard
of his peccant and vexatious brother-in-law--content, more than content,
to leave her comforted such illusions.

And then, while she was still discussing the matter terms of comparative
calm, came an orderly to summon him away, so that he left her in the
company of Samoval.

The Count had been deeply shocked by the discover that Dick Butler
was Lady O'Moy's brother, and a little confused that he himself in his
ignorance should have been the means of bringing to her knowledge a
painful matter that touched her so closely and that hitherto had been
so carefully concealed from her by her husband. He was thankful that
she should take so op optimistic a view, and quick to perceive O'Moy's
charitable desire to leave her optimism undispelled. But he was no less
quick to perceive the opportunities which the circumstances afforded him
to further a certain deep intrigue upon which he was engaged.

Therefore he did not take his leave just yet. He sauntered with Lady
O'Moy on the terrace above the wooded slopes that screened the village
of Alcantara, and there discovered her mind to be even more frivolous
and unstable than his perspicuity had hitherto suspected. Under stress
Lady O'Moy could convey the sense that she felt deeply. She could
be almost theatrical in her displays of emotion. But these were as
transient as they were intense. Nothing that was not immediately present
to her senses was ever capable of a deep impression upon her spirit,
and she had the facility characteristic of the self-loving and
self-indulgent of putting aside any matter that was unpleasant. Thus,
easily self-persuaded, as we have seen, that this escapade of Richard's
was not to be regarded too seriously, and that its consequences were
not likely to be gave, she chattered with gay inconsequence of other
things--of the dinner-party last week at the house of the Marquis
of Minas, that prominent member of the council of Regency, of the
forthcoming ball to be given by the Count of Redondo,