hat
compensation we can. If you wish me to send for Lance I will do so at
once. I will send a telegram from the station at Dunmore; he will be
here soon after noon."

There had been little or no communication between the young heir and his
parents since the lawsuit began. Once or twice Lord Chandos and the earl
had met; but the earl always refused to discuss matters with him.

"You must talk to my lady, my dear boy," he would reply; "you know that
she manages everything;" and Lord Chandos, fearing no evil, laughed at
what he considered an amiable weakness on his father's part.

"I love my wife," he said to himself, "but no woman should ever be so
completely mistress of me. I shall always keep my independence, even
though I love my wife perhaps better than any man living; but I will
never give up my independence."

He was somewhat startled that morning in September to find a telegram
waiting him at River View, from Cawdor, stating that Lord Lanswell
wished him to take the first train, as he had news of the utmost
importance to him. Lady Lanswell, who was a most complete woman of the
world, had warily contrived that a piece of real good fortune should at
the same time fall to his lot. She had great influence at court, and she
had used it to some purpose. There was a royal wedding on the Continent,
and he was one of the two English noblemen chosen as the representatives
of English royalty. There could be no refusal of such an honor, Lady
Lanswell knew that; and she, knowing that Lord Chandos would be
delighted over it, had used all her influence, hoping that it would
distract his attention from the decision given and from his wife. She
had arranged a little programme in her mind--how it should all be
managed; she would send a telegram summoning him to Cawdor; she would
first show him the letter of appointment, induce him to answer by
accepting it, then when the letter accepting the appointment had gone,
and he was committed beyond recall, she would tell him the judicial
decision over his marriage.

The telegram reached River View one morning when Lord Chandos and Leone
sat at a late breakfast-table, Leone looking like a radiant spring
morning, her beautiful face, with its exquisite coloring, and her dainty
dress of amber and white.

"A telegram," she said. "Oh, Lance, how I dread the sight of those
yellow envelopes; they always fill me with horror; they always seem to
be the harbinger of bad news."

He kissed the