xpected a climax, and, now it had
arrived, she was ready for it. The scorn and satire gave place to
tenderness; she who was the most undemonstrative of women, caressed him
as though he had been a child again on her knees. She praised him, she
spoke of his perfidy as though it were heroism; she pointed out to him
that he had made a noble sacrifice of an ignoble love.

"But, mother," he said, "I have broken my faith, my honor, my plighted
word," and her answer was:

"That for a great folly there could only be a great reparation; that if
he had broken his faith with this unfortunate girl he had kept it, and
his loyalty also, to the name and race of which he was so proud, to
herself and to Lady Marion."

Like all other clever women, she could argue a question until she
convinced the listener, even against his own will, and she could argue
so speciously that she made wrong seem right.

He listened until he was unable to make any reply. In his heart he hated
and loathed himself; he called himself a coward and a traitor; but in
his mother's eyes he was a great hero.

"There is one thing I cannot do," he said; "I cannot write and tell her;
it seems to me more cruel than if I plunged a dagger in her heart."

Lady Lanswell laughed.

"That is all morbid sentiment, my dear Lance. Leave the matter with me,
I will be very kind and very generous; I will arrange everything with
her in such a manner that you will be pleased. Now promise me to try and
forget her, and be happy with the sweet girl who loves you so dearly."

"I will try," he said, but his young face was so haggard and worn that
my lady's heart misgave her as she looked at him.

"I have done all for the best," she murmured to herself. "He may suffer
now, but he will thank me for it in the years to come."

CHAPTER XXXIV.

A PALE BRIDEGROOM.

The writing of that letter was a labor of love to Lady Lanswell. She did
not wish to be cruel; on the contrary, now that she had gained her wish,
she felt something like pity for the girl she had so entirely crushed.
Lord Chandos would have been quite true to his first love but for his
mother's influence and maneuvers. She knew that. She knew that with her
own hand she had crushed the life and love from this girl's heart.
Writing to her would be the last disagreeable feature in the case. She
would be finished with them, and there would be nothing to mar the
brightness of the future.

My lady took up a jeweled pen;