her hand.

"What truth?" said Harry. "Have I ever told you a lie?" But he knew well
what was the truth required of him.

"Lies can be acted as well as told. Harry, tell me all at once. Who is
Florence Burton; who and what?" She knew it all, then, and things had
settled themselves for him without the necessity of any action on his
part. It was odd enough that she should not have learned it before, but
at any rate she knew it now. And it was well that she should have been
told--only how was he to excuse himself for that embrace? "At any rate
speak to me," she said, standing quite erect, and looking as a Juno
might have looked. "You will acknowledge at least that I have a right to
ask the question. Who is this Florence Burton?"

"She is the daughter of Mr. Burton of Stratton."

"And is that all that you can tell me? Come, Harry, be braver than that.
I was not such a coward once with you. Are you engaged to marry her?"

"Yes, Lady Ongar, I am."

"Then you have had your revenge on me, and now we are quits." So saying,
she stepped back from the middle of the room, and sat herself down on
her accustomed seat. He was left there standing, and it seemed as though
she intended to take no further notice of him. He might go if he
pleased, and there would be an end of it all. The difficulty would be
over, and he might at once write to Florence in what language he liked.
It would simply be a little episode in his life, and his escape would
not have been arduous.

But he could not go from her in that way. He could not bring himself to
leave the room without some further word. She had spoken of revenge. Was
it not incumbent on him to explain to her that there had been no
revenge; that he had loved, and suffered, and forgiven without one
thought of anger--and that then he had unfortunately loved again? Must
he not find some words in which to tell her that she had been the light,
and he simply the poor moth that had burned his wings.

"No, Lady Ongar," said he, "there has been no revenge."

"We will call is justice, if you please. At any rate I do not mean to
complain."

"If you ever injured me--" he began.

"I did injure you," said she, sharply.

"If you ever injured me, I forgave you freely."

"I did injure you--" As she spoke she rose again from her seat, showing
how impossible to her was that tranquillity which she had attempted to
maintain. "I did injure you, but the injury came to you early in life,
and sat lightly o