"What fire, what genius, what power! That is really acting," she said. "In all my life I have seen nothing better. There is truth in her tenderness, reality in her sorrow. I shall often come to see Vanira, Lance." So she did, and was often puzzled over the resemblance of some one she knew; but she never once dreamed of Leone, while, by dint of earnest watching and study, Lord Chandos became more and more convinced that it was she. He was determined to find out. He was foolish enough to think that if he could once be sure of it, his heart and mind would be at rest, but until then there was no rest for him. What could he do--how could he know? Then the idea came, to follow her carriage home. By dint of perseverance he found, at last, that Madame Vanira had a very pretty house in Hampstead called the Cedars, and he determined to call and see her there. If he had really been mistaken, and it were not Leone, he could but apologize; if it were---- Ah, well, if it were, he would ask her forgiveness, and she would give it to him, on account of the love she bore him years ago. CHAPTER XXXIX. NEITHER WIFE NOR WIDOW. It was with some trepidation that Lord Chandos presented himself at the gates of the Cedars, yet surely she who had loved him so well would never refuse him admission into her house? that is, if it were Leone. As he walked through the pretty garden and saw all the pretty flowers blooming, he said to himself, that it was like her. She had always so dearly loved the spring flowers, the flame of the yellow crocus, the faint, sweet odor of the violets, the pure heads of the white snow-drops. He had heard her say so often that she loved these modest, sweet flowers that come in the spring more than the dainty ones that bloom in summer-time. It was like her, this garden, and yet, he could not tell why. Great clusters of lilac-trees were budding, the laburnums were thinking of flowering; but there was no song of running brook, and no ripple of fountains, no sound of falling water; the birds were busy wooing and they had so much to sing about. There was a profusion of flowers, all the windows seemed full of them; there was a picturesque look about the place that reminded him of Leone. On the lawn stood two large cedars, from which the place derived its name. He went to the hall door. What if she should meet him suddenly and turn from him in indignant anger? What if it should not be Leone, but a stranger? A pretty housemaid, Parisian, he knew from the type, answered the door, from whom he inquired, in his most polite fashion, if Madame Vanira was at home. There is no denying the fact that all women are more or less susceptible to the charms of a handsome face, and Lord Chandos was handsome--exceedingly. The girl looked up into the dark face and the dark eyes that always looked admiringly when a woman was near. "Madame Vanira sees no one," she replied. Something passed rapidly from his hand to hers.