She went--more than once. She had asked herself if this intimacy were wise? She could not help liking the fair, sweet woman who had taken her place, and yet she felt a great undercurrent of jealous indignation and righteous anger--it might blaze out some day, and she knew that if it ever did so it would be out of her control. It was something like playing with fire, yet how many people play with fire all their lives and never get burned! She went, looking more beautiful and regal than ever, in a most becoming dress of black velvet, her white arms and white shoulders looking whiter than ever through the fine white lace. She wore no jewels; a pomegranate blossom lay in the thick coils of her hair; a red rose nestled in her white breast. She was shown into the boudoir she had admired so much, and there Lady Chandos joined her. Lord Chandos had been busily engaged during the day in looking up facts and information for his speech. He had joined his wife for dinner, but she saw him so completely engrossed that she did not talk to him, and it had not occurred to her to tell him that Madame Vanira was coming, so that he was quite ignorant of that fact. The two ladies enjoyed themselves very much--they had a cup of orange Pekoe from cups of priceless china, they talked of music, art, and books. The pretty little clock chimed ten. Lady Chandos looked at her companion. "You have not tried my piano yet," she said. "It was a wedding present from Lord Chandos to me; the tone of it is very sweet and clear." "I will try it," said Madame Vanira. "May I look through the pile of music that lies behind it?" Lady Chandos laughed at the eagerness with which Leone went on her knees and examined the music. Just at that moment, when she was completely hidden from view, the door suddenly opened, and Lord Chandos hastily entered. Seeing his wife near, without looking around the room, in his usual caressing manner, he threw one arm round her, drew her to him, and kissed her. It was that kiss which woke all the love, and passion, and jealousy in Leone's heart; it came home to her in that minute, and for the first time, that the husband she had lost belonged to another--that his kisses and caresses were never more to be hers, but would be given always to this other. There was one moment--only one moment of silence; but while it lasted a sharp sword pierced her heart; the next, Lady Chandos, with a laughing, blushing face, had turned to her husband, holding up one white hand in warning. "Lance," she cried, "do you not see Madame Vanira?" She wondered why the words seemed to transfix him--why his face paled and his eyes flashed fire. "Madame Vanira!" he cried, "I did not see that she was here." Then Leone rose slowly from the pile of music. "I should ask pardon," she said; "I did not know that I had hidden myself so completely."