"Hold your tongue!" said Glen, bringing his hand down fiercely upon the boy's shoulder, which he clutched with so tremendous a grip that the lad winced and uttered a cry of pain. "Don't speak to me. Take me back." "Are you ill? What is the matter? There's blood on your face. Hang it all! you hurt me. What has been wrong? Has Marie refused you?" "Will you be silent?" "No," said the boy with spirit; "I will know. I saw Marie come in here. What has happened? Have you been playing some--" "Rehearsing only!" cried Glen, with a forced laugh. "Rehearsing! Are they going to have amateur theatricals?" "No, no: real--a social comedy," cried Glen. "A social comedy! I say, old man, haven't you had too much champagne? But are they going to act something? I should like to be in it. What is the piece?" "The scapegoat!" cried Glen, with a laugh; "and I play the goat." "Look here, old man, I'll see you into a cab. Let's get out this way. I've a couple more dances I must have before I go. I wouldn't go back into the drawing-room if I were you. Come along." With his senses seeming to reel, Glen took the arm offered to him, and allowed himself to be led out into the hall, Dick helping him on with his coat and seeing him in a hansom before returning to the drawing-room, where the band was playing another waltz. He intended to find Marie and secure her for a partner; but the dance was nearly ended before he found her, looking, as he thought, more beautiful than ever, but very strange, standing in a doorway with Lord Henry, who was holding her hand. Something seemed to check the boy, as a pang of jealousy shot through his fervent young heart. He could not hear what was said, but stood still in mute rage as Lord Henry said: "Indeed, yes, my dear child; everything. There shall be no hostility. Fighting is a thing of the past. Take my word for it, and be at rest." "Thank you, Lord Henry, thank you," she said, almost passionately. "Good-night. I will go to my room now; I can bear no more." "God bless you, my child. It must be hard to bear, but you are noble and good and true enough to master this bitterness. I would I could bear it for your sake. Good-night." "Good-night," she said warmly. "And you will try to forget it all?" "I have forgotten it," she said, flushing and drawing herself up proudly. "It was one of my mistakes." She looked full in his eyes as she spoke, and then drew her hand from his, and he stood watching her cross the hall and ascend the staircase till she reached the first landing, where she turned and looked down at him for a moment before passing out of his sight. Lord Henry Moorpark stood with his eyes half closed, thinking of the bright vision that had just glided from his sight; and his thoughts must have been pleasant, for he smiled once, and stood opening and shutting his crush hat till, becoming aware that someone was near, he raised his eyes, and saw Dick pointing his tiny moustache.