"All this should have been mine." Yet, it was not envy of the wealth and magnificence surrounding her, it was the keen pain of the outrageous wrong done to her which stung her to the quick. Brilliantly dressed ladies passed her, and she saw that more deference was paid to her than would have been paid to a duchess. Then, in the drawing-room that led to the ballroom, she saw Lady Marion in her usual calm, regal attitude, receiving her guests. The queen of blondes looked more than lovely; her dress was of rich white lace over pale blue silk, with blue forget-me-nots in her hair. Leone had one moment's hard fight with herself as she gazed at this beautiful woman. "She stands in my place, she bears my name; on her finger shines the ring that ought to shine on mine; she has taken the love I believed to be mine for life," said Leone to herself; "how shall I bear it?" As she stood among the brilliant crowd, a strong impulse came over her to go up to Lady Marion and say: "Stand aside; this is my place. Men cannot undo the laws of God. Stand aside, give me my place." Words were still burning from her heart to her lips when she saw Lady Marion holding out her hand in kindliest greeting to her; all the bitter thoughts melted at once in the sunshine of that fair presence; her own hand sought Lady Marion's, and the two women, whose lives had crossed each other's so strangely, stood for one moment hand locked in hand, their eyes fixed on each other. Lady Marion spoke first, and she seemed to draw her breath with a deep sigh as she did so. "I am so pleased to see you, Madame Vanira," she said, eagerly. "We must find time for a long talk this evening." With a bow Leone passed on to the ballroom, where the first person to meet her was Lord Chandos; he looked at the bouquet she carried. "You have honored my flowers, madame," he said. "I remember your love for lilies-of-the-valley. You will put my name down for the first waltz?" There was a world of reproach in the dark eyes she raised to his. "No, I will not waltz with you," she replied, gently. "Why not?" he asked, bending his handsome head over her. "I might make false excuses, but I prefer telling you the truth," she answered; "I will not trust myself." And when Leone took that tone Lord Chandos knew that further words were useless. "You will dance a quadrille, at least?" he asked, and she consented. Then he offered her his arm and they walked through the room together. The ballroom at Stoneland House was a large and magnificent apartment; many people thought it the finest ballroom in London; the immense dome was brilliantly lighted, the walls were superbly painted, and tier after tier of superb blossoms filled the room with exquisite color and exquisite perfume.