et he did not like Keene the
worse for the impatient gesture with which the latter shook himself
loose, muttering, "Je vous croyais trop sage, M. le Vicomte, pour vous
amuser avec ces balivernes de romancier."

Fanny Molyneux and Cecil passed the evening together _tete-a-tete_. That
kind little creature had a way of taking other people's turn of duty in
the line of penitence and apology. On the present occasion she was
remarkably gushing in her contrition, though her own guilt was
infinitesimal; but she met with scanty encouragement. She had found time
to extract from Harry all the details of the matrimonial misadventure,
and wished to give her friend the benefit of them. Miss Tresilyan would
not listen to a word. She did not attempt to disguise the interest she
felt in the subject, but said that she preferred hearing the
circumstances from Royston's own lips. With all this her manner had
never been more gentle and caressing: she succeeded at last in deluding
Fanny into the belief that every body was perfectly heart-whole, and
that no harm had been done, so that that night _la mignonne_ slept the
sleep of the innocent, no misgivings or forebodings troubling her
dreams. Those brave women!--when I think of the pangs that they suffer
uncomplainingly, the agonies that they dissemble, I am inclined to
esteem lightly our own claims to the Cross of Valor. How many of them
there are who, covering with their white hand the dagger's hilt, utter
with a sweet, calm smile, and lips that never tremble, the falsehood
holier than most outspoken truths--_Poetus non angit_!

When Cecil returned home Mrs. Danvers was waiting for her, ready with
any amount of condolence and indignation. She checked all this, as she
well knew how to do; and at last was alone in her own chamber. Then the
reaction came on; with natures such as hers, it is a torture not to be
forgotten while life shall endure.

There were not wanting in Dorade admirers and sentimentalists, who were
wont to watch the windows of The Tresilyan as long as light lingered
there. How those patient, unrequited astronomers would have been
startled if their eyes had been sharp enough to penetrate the dark
recess where she lay writhing and prone, her stricken face veiled by the
masses of her loosened hair, her slender hands clenched till the blood
stood still in their veins, in an agony of stormy self-reproach, and
fiery longing, and injured pride; or if their ears had caught the sound