“What nonsense--what arrant nonsense!” the colonel exclaimed, bitterly. “I had believed you until now to be possessed of sound reason. Lady Elaine, I must say that, however severe your punishment may be, you will well deserve it, and my words may recur to you again in your hour of grief--when it will be too late--too late!” He had not intended to be so harsh, but he could not help it. “You are presuming, sir!” she flashed, haughtily. “I have no desire for your censorship.” “No, my lady; your own conscience will be quite enough to bear with!” He jumped to his feet and turned toward the door. “At least,” he said, “let us part friends. I have nothing but pity for you, Lady Elaine.” His tender tones were more than she could bear, and for a little while she wept unrestrainedly. “If you had cared for him as I believed,” he went on, but she interrupted him with a passionate cry. “Love him! I worship my darling with all the strength of my being! Oh, colonel, my pride is broken--the barrier is swept away! I will send a message to him to-day!” “Can I tell him this?” he asked, joyously. “No. You must grant me the favor of not doing so. You can say that you have seen me, but no more. Promise, colonel!” “Very well; I will obey my lady’s behest,” he said, reluctantly. “When will you send this blessed relief to a tortured soul?” “This afternoon--by one whom I can trust to deliver it with his own hands.” “You have made a happy man of me, Elaine. On second thought, I will not go back to Annesley Park until I can meet Sir Harold, and see the light of hope and happiness once more in his face. My dear, he will be at your side within an hour of receiving your message, if horse-flesh can carry him. You will rescue a man from the brink of inferno--a man who loves you as woman was never loved before! Good-by! Every moment is precious, and I will not be the cause of one being lost.” He pressed her trembling fingers tightly, warm tears springing into his eyes. Then with a whispered “Heaven bless both of you!” he left the library. Lady Elaine heard him ride away, and with a happy resolve in her heart sought her own apartments. In one of the passages she encountered Viscount Rivington, quite unconscious that he had purposely placed himself in her path. “My dear Lady Elaine,” he said, “I have been in agonies lest the weather should be unpropitious and upset our plans for a ride to-day.” “I do not think that I shall go out this morning, viscount,” Lady Elaine said, sweetly. “But your promise of yesterday!” he exclaimed, biting his lips with vexation. “You are not unkind enough to hold me to it when I particularly wish to be released?” she asked. “I am only disappointed,” he replied, bowing. “It is like a black cloud obscuring golden sunshine to be so suddenly deprived of the anticipation of so sweet a pleasure.”