e accepted this as a good omen. "Our little talk!" He had not dreamt
of such urbanity. Here was the result of courage and honesty. Evidently
his bearing had made a good impression upon the old despot. He began to
look cheerful.

"Nothing could please me better."

"Go on, then," said Lady Ogram, drily. "You were saying--"

"I wish to use complete frankness with you," Dyce resumed. "As I think
you know, I always prefer the simple, natural way of looking at things.
So, for instance, in my relations with women I have always aimed at
fair and candid behaviour; I have tried to treat women as they
themselves, justly enough, wish to be treated, without affectation,
without insincerity. Constance knew my views, and she approved them.
When our friendship developed into an engagement of marriage, we both
of us regarded the step in a purely reasonable light; we did not try to
deceive ourselves, and, less still, to deceive each other. But a man
cannot always gauge his nature. To use the common phrase, I did not
think I should ever fall in love; yet that happened to me, suddenly,
unmistakably. What course had I to follow? Obviously I must act on my
own principles; I must be straightforward, simple, candid. As soon as
my mind was made up, I came to Constance."

He broke off, observed the listener's face, and added with an
insinuating smile:

"There was the _other_ course--what is called the unselfish, the
heroic. Unfortunately, heroism of that kind is only another name for
deliberate falsehood, in word and deed, and I confess I hadn't the
courage for it. Unselfishness which means calculated deception seems to
me by no means admirable. It was not an easy thing to go to Constance,
and tell her what I had to tell; but I know that she herself would much
prefer it to the sham-noble alternative. And I am equally sure, Lady
Ogram, what your own view will be of the choice that lay before me."

The listener made no sort of response to this appeal. "And what had
Constance to say to you?" she asked. Lashmar hesitated, his
embarrassment half genuine, half feigned.

"Here," he replied, in a thoughtfully suspended voice, "I find myself
on very delicate ground. I hardly feel that I should be justified in
repeating what passed between us. I hoped you had already heard it. Was
it not from Constance that you learnt--?"

"Don't begin to question _me_," broke in Lady Ogram, with sudden
severity. "What I know, and how I know it, is none of your b