"Have I vexed you, Lance?" she said. "I did not mean to do so. If you do not like me to ask you where you are going, I will not, but it seems to me such a simple thing." "How can I object, or, rather, why should I object to tell you where I go, Marion? Here is my note-book; open it and read." But when he said the words he knew that on his note-book there was no mention of Leone's name, and again his heart smote him. It was so very easy to deceive this fair, trusting woman. Lady Chandos put the note-book back in his pocket. "I do not want to see it, Lance. I merely asked you the question because you looked so very nice, and you have chosen such a beautiful flower. I thought you were going to pay some particular visit." He kissed the sweet, wistful face raised to his, and changed the subject. "Do I not always look what you ladies call 'nice'?" he asked, laughingly; and she looked admiringly at him. "You are always nice to me, Lance; there is no one like you. I often wonder if other wives are as proud of their husbands as I am of you? Now I shall try to remember that you do not like me to ask you where you are going. The greatest pleasure I have on earth is complying with every little wish of yours." He could not help kissing her again, she was so sweet, so gentle, so kind, yet his heart smote him. Ah, Heaven! if life had been different to him; if he had been but firmer of purpose, stronger of will! He left her with an uneasy mind and a sore heart. Lady Marion was more than usually thoughtful after he had gone. She could not quite understand. The time had been when he had never left the house without saying something about where he was going; now his absences were long, and she did not know where his time was spent. Lady Lanswell noticed the unusual shadow on the girl's sweet face, and in her quick, impetuous way asked her about it. "Marion, you are anxious or thoughtful--which is it?" she asked. "Thoughtful," said Lady Chandos. "I am not anxious, not in the least." "Of what are you thinking, that it brings a shadow on that dear face of yours?" said Lady Lanswell, kindly. Lady Chandos turned to her, and in a low tone of voice said: "Has Lance any very old or intimate friends in London?" "No; none that I know of. He knows a great many people, of course, and some very intimately, but I am not aware of any especial friendship. Why do you ask me?" "I fancied he had; he is so much more from home than he used to be, and does not say where he goes." "My dear Marion," said the countess, kindly, "Lance has many occupations and many cares; he cannot possibly tell you every detail of how and where he passes the time. Let me give you a little warning; never give way to any little suspicions of your husband; that is always the beginning of domestic misery; trust him all in all. Lance is loyal and true to you; do not tease him with suspicions and little jealousies."