Robert Orange

reproached herself for indecision. She held at bay every thought of Robert Orange, and formed the resolve of banishing him from her mind for ever. When the time came to dress for luncheon, she b

ht her the penalty of frankness where sympathy could not supply, from its own knowledge, the unutterable half which makes up every confidence. The bitter pleasures of a conscience which caresses its worst burden were the only real ones of her daily existence. When she could say, at the end of the day, "I have fooled them all: they think I am happy, I am not: they think Reckage amuses me, he doesn't. They think I delight in these dull dinners and balls, I hate them," a sort of exultation-the pride of a spirit singing under torture-would fill her whole being. All youth that is strong and thoughtful has much of this instinct of dissimulation. The world-to a young mind-appears controlled by elderly, suspicious, hateful custodians

livid man with an unyielding smile and the yellow eyes of one

ast," he said, considering Lor

ng yourself? I think you were foolish to leave England. Gladstone was remarking but the other day, 'Harding was always so cocksure.' 'And wasn't he right?'

ut the more insidious. She wore a dress of wine-coloured silk which fitted plainly over her breast and shoulders and fell in graceful flounces from the waist. The warm, olive lines of her cheek and throat appeared the darker in contrast with a twist of white lace which she wore round her neck; and her black hair, dressed higher than usual, was held in place by a large ruby comb which caught the fire-light as she moved. Reckage was conscious, for the fir

dding this morning?

m! Yes, of course. You

murmured, dropping her voic

ated the dining-room from Lord Garrow's library were rolle

ng deplorable in Sara's physical brilliancy. Her upper-lip that day had a certain curl which he had learnt to regard as a danger-signal. What would she do next?

arding suddenly, after a moment's cont

en?" faltered

em place-hunters

," said Pensée; "Mr. Disrael

him," observed Sir

can tell you about him. Many have a high opinion of the fellow, and say that if he will stick t

aps, papa. But there ar

erruption and took his revenge by a feminine thrust. "The hero," said he, "married some

"his wife is a friend of mine-s

hand and touched

d, "that the wife will b

she has means, and he lik

ave always held that a man's career rests

estily, "you retired from political life because

e but unfortunately no genius. I shall therefore watch your friend's triumph or failure-

have gone so far as Orange, and to know that perhaps-I say, perhaps-h

were a romantic marria

young lady softly. "

ond of a love-match. They adore a sentimental Prime Minister. They want to see him either marrying for love, or jilted in his y

Reckage-"to be su

en, too, rally round a Lochinvar. Such an evidence of heart-or folly, if you prefer to call it so-is also

French-related to the old French aristocracy; but the less one says in England about foreign pedigrees the better. All that of itself is against him, and Mrs. Orange, it seems, i

" said Hardin

rd to speak. My own wife was a Russian. But I was not i

Orange's patriotic instinct if he had

shown discretion in settling down with

ge before she married

s. Parflete,"

n extraordinary creature. He lived for years with the Archduke Charles of Alberia. People used to

Pensée, much agitated

Sir Piers. "I met him last we

ame man," said Reckag

in Madrid. She was living with the Countess Des Escas; there wa

and? It's the sort of thing one hardly dares to think. That i

d pale and looked a

you like," said Harding. "But

erved Lord Garrow. "You must b

lly into the bargain. It is selling the be

piteously at the three

if there is the least doubt of Mr. Parflete's death,

eckage, "which makes it difficult for a friend to co

Garrow; "and if the woman has deceived t

't deceive him," said Pensé

said Sir Piers, finely. "To you she may ap

s! I won't hear them.

ver enough to appea

gushed from her eyes. "You will regre

. "Beauclerk, you ought to follow t

appalled at the prospect of being mixed up in so disagreeable

pa. Just put yourself in his place.

recipitate," said Reckage;

es, rose from the table, and

or child's position? An illegal marriage! She is the most gentle, beautiful person I ever sa

pain unless I have something more definite to go on. Sir Piers tell

wait a moment. Does any one pres

last letter to his wife. He wrot

and, from the several papers it cont

nce," said he, "I

r while he smoothed out the sheet. It was dated plainly, "October 7,

said Pensée. "One co

ps. "The whole story has had all along something of unreality about it.

d Pensée, with an imploring

s now half-past two. The steamer goes twice a week only. I can

e had a presentiment of trouble so long that now I feel 'Here it is

Sara's eyes. She had moved to the fireplace and

" asked her fa

," she sa

, under his voice, "You thi

stablish a fresh intimacy between them. It was th

ed; "and, Beauclerk, write to

matters. The philosophic mind, you know, is never qu

away from him, and as she dared not look up, she did not see the expression of triumph, mingled with other things, which, for a moment, lit up Lord Reckage's ordinarily inscrutable countenance. Lately, he had been somewhat depressed by his encounter with refractory wills. His hors

impulse which surprised hims

gave him a s

do a great deal if you could f

and full of thoughts

is morning-she looked so beautiful, perfectly lovely-a sight I never can forg