nsieur!" she whispered piteously;
but he was in no mood to be melted. He shut the door upon her, and did
not see the rainbow of smiles that played over her face the moment she
was in safety.

"She is jealous," mused Lionel, pouring out a cup of tea; "I did not
think she would have been so silly."

He wagged his head sadly over the frailty of human nature, and then an
unpleasant thought struck him--the accusation of her mistress. "Lies"
had been the charge--an ugly word--and on the face of things somewhat
plausible. Again he reviewed the arguments for the defense--the lack of
all apparent motive for deceit, his uselessness from a blackmailer's
standpoint, and the rest,--and the strength of them gave him fresh
courage. The strongest argument of all, the remembrance of Beatrice
herself, almost clenched the matter. _Almost_, for he was cautious, and
had some knowledge of the world. Still, he was young and hopeful, and
the obvious jealousy of Mizzi was an additional reason for discounting
her assertions. "Lies or not," he concluded, "it is too amusing to let
slip. Besides, she is such a dear...."

The object of his devoted suspicion returned soon after eleven that
night, a little tired, but full of kindliness and mirth. "Oh!" she
cried, as she entered the room, "I hope you haven't waited supper for
me. If so, you must be ravenous----"

"Of course I waited," said Lionel. "Shall I ring?"

"But why hasn't Mizzi set supper?" asked Beatrice, pausing in the act of
taking off her hat.

"I don't know," said Lionel carelessly. "It is true we had a slight
difference, but surely----"

She caught up his words. "A difference! with my maid!"

Lionel cursed his stupidity in silence. The unlucky words had slipped
from his mouth unheeding. He stood dumb.

"What was the difference about?" asked Beatrice frigidly. "Did you try
to kiss her?"

At this stroke of feminine intuition Lionel felt himself to be in deep
waters. He was no lover of lies, and to this peerless creature a lie
would be doubly treacherous. On the other hand, something was due to
Mizzi: not only had he tried to kiss her--the feat had been
successfully accomplished.

"Do you think," he asked reproachfully, "that the moment your back was
turned I could transfer my worship to another?"

"I think it quite possible," said the lady with a twinkle he did not
see.

"Then, madam," returned Lionel in his best wounded manner, "let me tell
you what happened. I rang for t