Then she had slept, and here was the morrow, a lovely summer day with the air all fragrance, the birds all song, and she was still doing hard battle with herself, for, as she had said to herself, hers was "a mad love--a cruel, mad love." And as she stood watching the distant hills, wondering if in the blue sky that hung over them there was peace, a servant once more entered the room, holding a card in her hand. "Lady Chandos," said Leone, wonderingly; "ask her in here." She looked in surprise, almost too great for words, at the little card. Lance's wife, who had refused to speak to her, who had disdained to touch her outstretched hand--Lance's wife coming to speak to her. What could it mean? Were the whole race of the Lanswells coming to her? The next moment a fair, sweet face was smiling into hers, a face she had seen last darkened with anger, but which was fair and bright now, with the light of a holy love. Leone looked at her in amaze. What had happened? It looked as though a new life, a new soul, had been given to Lady Marion. And hush, she was speaking to her in a low, sweet voice, that thrilled through the great singer like the softest cords from an Eolian harp. "You are surprised to see me," Lady Marion was saying, "yet I have done right in coming. All last night, while the stars were shining, I prayed Heaven to tell me what it was best for me to do, and I shall always think that the white-winged angels, who they say carry prayers to Heaven, sent me to you. I refused to touch your hand the other day. Will you give it to me now? Will you listen to me?" Leone's whole heart and soul had risen in hot rebellion and fierce hate against the Countess of Lanswell. They went out in sweetest love and compassion to her fair faced rival now. The sweet voice went on: "I cannot tell why I have come to you--some impulse has sent me. Another woman in my place would have looked on you as a successful rival and have hated you. I cannot. The soul that has stirred other souls cannot be base; you must be noble and good or you would not influence the hearts and souls of men. Oh, madame, I have come to you with two lives in my hands. Will you listen to me?" The dark, beautiful head of the gifted singer was bent for a few moments over the golden head of her rival. Then Leone raised her eyes to Marion's face. "You are trembling," she said; "you shall speak to me as you will, but you shall speak to me here." Some warm, loving irresistible impulse came to her; she could not hate or hurt this fair, gentle lady whom the countess had put in her place, and whom her husband did not love; a great impulse of pity came over her, a sweet and generous compassion filled her heart.