took advantage of his generosity, and either persuaded him to
marry her, or wrung from him some promise of marriage when he should be
of age."

"I thought," said straightforward Lady Marion, "that he was married, and
his parents had petitioned that the marriage be considered null and void
as he was under age."

"I think, my dear," said the diplomatic aunt, "that it would be as well
not to mention this. Two things are certain, if Lord Chandos had been
properly married, his marriage could never have been set aside; the
other is, that the countess can never endure the mention of her son's
misfortune."

"Do you know Lord Chandos?" asked Lady Marion, after a time.

"Yes, I know him, and I consider him one of the most charming men I have
ever met, a perfect cavalier and chivalrous gentleman."

"That is high praise," said Lady Marion, thoughtfully.

"I know of none higher," said her aunt, and then with her usual tact
changed the subject; but more than once that day Lady Marion thought of
the man who was a cavalier and a gentleman.

Meanwhile the time passed pleasantly for the countess and her son. They
were staying at the grand palace of the Falconis--once the home of
princes, but now let by the year to the highest bidder. Lady Lanswell
took good care that her son should be well amused; every morning a
delicious little sketch of the day's amusement was placed before him;
the countess laid herself out to please him as man had never been
pleased before.

The countess saw that he received letters from England continually. She
was above all vulgar intrigue, or she might have destroyed more than
one-half which came, without his seeing them. She would not do that; the
war she carried into the enemy's camp was of the most refined and
thorough-going kind. She would set aside a marriage on a mere quibble,
but she would not destroy a letter. She had said, openly and defiantly
to her son's face, that she felt sure he would not remarry Leone in
June, but she would stoop to no vulgar way to prevent it.

It often happened that the countess herself opened the letter-bag. When
she did so, and there was a letter from Leone, she always gave it to her
son with a smile, in which there was just a shade of contempt.

"Another letter," she would say; "my dear Lance, you contribute quite
your share to the inland revenue."

She never alluded to Leone, but she did permit herself, at rare
intervals, to relate some ludicrous anecdotes of peo