“My dear love,” he whispered, remorsefully, “I am satisfied. I will never doubt you again. This has been a bitter torture to me. Your father hinted at it long ago, and--and----” “Well?” Her tones were cold and hard. “You told me that it was not true.” “And you have listened to other falsehoods--to other childish tittle-tattle. Oh, Harold! what will my future life be if I wed a jealous man?” “It shall never occur again, my darling. Do not punish me more, I beseech you!” cried Sir Harold. “Why do you not question the viscount?” she demanded, scornfully. Then she bowed her head and sobbed bitterly. Sir Harold returned home that evening with a heavy heart. For the first time since their engagement he and Elaine had not exchanged a kiss at parting. She had persistently remained in her own apartments, and at a late hour he had ridden away to Annesley Park, his heart torn with conflicting doubts and fears. And Viscount Henry Rivington saw through it all and smiled. CHAPTER III. “MY GOD! ALL IS AT AN END.” Sir Harold Annesley was the most envied of men among his kind. He was young, wealthy and famous; possessed of a splendid physique, and the representative of an old and honorable line. There was no blot on the escutcheon of the Annesleys; the men had ever been noble and brave, and the women good and virtuous. In addition to these splendid attributes and honors, Sir Harold had won the fairest and loveliest woman in all England. Dukes and princes had sighed vainly at her feet. She had been the beauty of two seasons, and had nearly turned the brains of a score of men, but to one and all was Lady Elaine the same. Kindly and gracious, but as cold as an icicle when there was the danger of an avowal. Some of these disappointed lovers declared that she was a coquette; others that she had no human passions--no heart. At last her father, my lord of Seabright, spoke to her seriously upon the subject of marriage. “It must come some day, Elaine. Surely among all your acquaintances you must have some preference?” “No,” the girl replied. “All men are alike. It is dreadful that they must all pretend to fall in love with me.” Her lips curled with scorn. “I do not think,” she added, “that one man in a hundred knows anything of the professions he makes use of so glibly.” The earl stared at her in surprise. “Why should you think so, Elaine?” “They are passionately in love to-day, and speaking unkindly of me to-morrow. Is that love?” The earl did not feel competent to argue the point, so he wisely evaded the question by saying: “Well, let us hope that you will be able to return the affection of some one before many months are past--Viscount Rivington, for instance. He is young, handsome, and comes of a great family. He will be a duke some day, and is very much in love with you.” “So that these men are of ancient lineage, papa, it does not seem to concern you whether it is possible for me to love them or not,” Lady Elaine replied.