y longs to have me
see, because my throat is always too shut up, when it is mentioned, to
talk about it. I can't do much more than say "Yes" and "No," in the
absolutely necessary places, and generally show symptoms of cold in the
head, if there's a hanky handy.

Of course, I am dying to see you, dearest. You know that, without my
telling, and you are everything to me--my whole world. Yet it hurts me
dreadfully to know that, when Sir Lionel Pendragon is at home, instead
of carrying out the nice plans he makes each day for "us" in the future,
he will be despising me heartily, and thinking me the very worst girl,
without exception, who ever lived. I believe he now dislikes Bloody
Queen Mary more than any other woman who ever spoiled the earth with her
offensive presence; but probably she will go up one when he gets to know
about me.

I don't doubt that he'll be angry with the real Ellaline as well, but
not absolutely disgusted with her, as he will be with me. Besides,
whatever he feels, it won't matter to her very much, except where money
is concerned, because she will be married before he knows the truth. She
won't have to live in his house, or even in the same country with him,
for her home will be in France with her soldier-husband. Unfortunately,
I'm afraid his opinion of her may matter in a mercenary way, for I have
heard the whole story--I believe the _true_ story--of Ellaline's mother
and father, as connected with Sir Lionel's past.

Mrs. Senter told it, and enjoyed telling it, because she thought it
would depress and take the spirit out of me. She hoped, I'm sure, that
it would make me shrink from Sir Lionel's society in shame and
mortification; also she very likely fancied that I might consider myself
an unfit bride for her nephew, whose attentions to me are extremely
convenient for her; but she would prefer not to have them end in
matrimony.

If I were Ellaline Lethbridge, with the feelings of Audrie Brendon, I
should have taken the recital precisely as she expected; though really I
don't think Ellaline herself, as she is, would have minded desperately,
except about the money. But being Audrie Brendon, and not Ellaline, I
could have shouted for joy at almost every word that woman said, if it
hadn't been in a cave where shouting would have made awful echoes.

You know, dear, how I have been puzzling over Sir Lionel the Noble, as
he appears to me, and Sir Lionel the Dragon, as painted by Ellaline, and
how I'v