w. Radigund, unhelming
her lovely face, would never have tempted him to forego his advantage
and throw his weapons down.

However, she greeted him with perfect composure and satisfaction.

"Do you join our party this afternoon, Colonel Mohun? I expect them to
call for me every moment. We are going to the Croix de Berny, to see the
ground for the race next week. Mr. Livingstone was to have lunched here;
but I never reckon on his keeping an engagement."

There was something in Ralph's manner which made her uncomfortable. She
took up her whip, and began twisting its slender stock rather nervously;
you would not have thought there was so much strength in the delicate
fingers.

"You are right," he replied, coolly, "not to count too much on Guy's
punctuality. He _is_ very uncertain in his movements. I fear he can not
accompany you this afternoon. He would have charged me with his excuses,
I am sure, if he had not been so hurried."

Flora looked up quickly.

"It must have been something very sudden, then. Have you any idea where
he is now?"

Ralph consulted his watch. "About Mantes, I should imagine. He started
for Havre by the last train. He will be at Southampton, to-morrow, and
the same day he can reach--"

He stopped, gazing at his companion with a cold, cruel satisfaction. The
blood was sinking in her cheeks, not with a sudden impulse, but
gradually--as the sunset rose-tints fade from the brow of the Jungfrau,
leaving a ghastly opaque whiteness behind them. During the silence that
ensued, a sharp tinkle might be heard as the jeweled head of the
riding-whip, snapped by a convulsive movement, fell at Flora's feet.

It _was_ weak in her to betray such loss of self-command, but,
remember, the blow came unexpectedly. She saw the edifice she had
plotted, and toiled, and risked so much to build, ruined and shattered
to its foundation-stone. How many whispers, and smiles, and eloquent
glances had been lavished, only to end in this Pavia, where not even
honor was saved from the utter wreck!

Was not the perfect waxen mask of the first Napoleon shivered in that
terrible abdication-night at Fontainebleau? Where was Cleopatra's
queenly dignity when she heard that Antony had rejoined Octavia?

"Why has he gone? What called him back?"

Her voice had lost the clear ring of silver, and sounded dull and flat,
like base metal.

"Constance Brandon wrote to tell him she was dying. Do you wonder that
he went to her?"

A pas