Two years afterwards Lady Norgate was listlessly turning the leaves of a society journal. Although she was a great and fashionable lady she was often listless, and found life rather a dreary proceeding. She read to-day, among the theatrical notes, that Mlle. Carlotta, the divine opera bouffe actress, was engaged to appear next month at the "Frivolity." Although the woman's absurd threat was unheeded, if not forgotten, her name recalled too vividly the most painful episode in Lady Norgate's life. She turned to another part of the paper and read that the gentleman who committed suicide under such distressing circumstances, at Monaco, had now been identified. He was Mr. Gerald Leigh, the sculptor, whose first important work attracted so much attention two years ago. It was hinted that his passion for a well-known actress was the cause of the rash deed. Lady Norgate dropped the paper, and covered her face with her hands. He had spoken truly. Her love meant life or death! Had she believed, or troubled about the concluding paragraph of the notice, had she ventured to tell herself it was true that Gerald had forgotten her, and Carlotta was responsible for his death, her mind would soon have been set at rest. Like a courteous foe who gives fair warning, Mlle. Carlotta wrote once more: "He is dead. He died for your sake, not mine. Your name, not mine, was on his lips. Look to yourself. I am coming to London." No doubt Carlotta meant this letter as a first blow towards revenge. She would hardly have written it had she known that Lady Norgate would cherish those words forever. Poor comfort as it was, they told her that Gerald had loved her to the last. Then Mlle. Carlotta, more beautiful, more enticing, more audacious than ever, came to London. For some months it had been whispered in society that Sir Ralph Norgate was not so perfect a husband as such a wife as Eugenia might rightly expect. After Carlotta's reappearance the whispers grew louder, the statements more circumstantial. Eugenia caught an echo of them and smiled disdainfully. Then the name of Carlotta's new victim became town-talk. Yet Eugenia made no sign. Not even when she met her husband, in broad daylight, seated side by side with the siren. The man had the grace to turn his head away, but Carlotta shot a glance of malicious triumph at the pale lady who passed without a quiver of the lip. James Herbert was with his sister, and found this encounter too much even for his cynicism. He was bound to speak. "The blackguard!" he said. "But Eugenia, I don't think I would have a divorce or a separation. It makes such a scandal." "It is a matter of perfect indifference to me," she said coldly. She spoke the truth. Carlotta's romantic vengeance was an utter failure. Lady Norgate and her husband were, in truth, no farther apart than they had been for many months. Eugenia was indifferent.