“You have astonished me,” she said, at last. “I can scarcely realize that the proud daughter of a hundred earls can possibly become so meek. But, then, we are all forced to acknowledge that man is lord of creation, while we poor women are crushed into obedience.” She tried to laugh, but it was a dismal failure. “Oh, Elaine,” she added, a pang of bitterness at her heart, “I pity your future!” “I am not afraid,” the earl’s daughter replied, softly. “My faith, my love is too strong.” Even now she did not for one moment suspect Margaret Nugent hated her as only a jealous woman can hate. “I have written to my lover to come back and forgive me,” Lady Elaine went on, “and now that I have seen you, Margaret, my maid shall take my letter to him.” For a moment Miss Nugent turned away her face to hide the flash of malevolence that sprang to her eyes. Then she spoke quickly, eagerly: “Oh, Lady Elaine, since my advice has not ended happily, it would be a pleasure, indeed, for me to be the bearer of the flag of truce to my willful cousin. His ultimate happiness is one of my dearest wishes, and, though I have no patience with his moods and freaks, no one cares more for Sir Harold in a sisterly way than I do. You will grant me this one favor, please, because I am beginning to feel that in some way I have been acting disloyally toward him. Mamma and I have to drive to Annesley Park after lunch, and I will place your letter into Sir Harold’s own hands.” “How can I refuse so kind an offer?” Elaine replied. “Who so reliable a messenger as you, Margaret? Here is my letter---here are the words which will recall my lover.” Miss Nugent almost snatched it from her. Then she laughed a forced laugh, and promised that it should be given to Sir Harold within two hours. She gave Lady Elaine a Judas kiss, her heart throbbing with triumph. Then she went away, saying: “Your lover will be here soon. How happy you look, Lady Elaine!” When she was gone the earl’s daughter wandered from room to room, from house to arbor, wherein she and her lover had spent so many blissful hours. As the time sped away her heart pulsed painfully and dark circles began to form under her eyes. The sun cast slanting shadows on the grass, then sank to rest in a cloud of fire. Still Sir Harold did not come. A young moon mounted the purple sky, and my lady sought her chamber. The clocks tolled the hours until the servants closed the windows and doors, and there was no Sir Harold. “He will come to-morrow,” Lady Elaine told herself; “my love will come to-morrow.” But the morrow brought no relief to her tortured soul. Margaret Nugent came, with pale face and burning eyes. “I gave Sir Harold your letter,” she said, “but he tore it to atoms and cast it into my face. He scoffed at you and your love. Oh, Lady Elaine, you have broken his heart! He has left Annesley Park forever!” “Gone! Forever!” The words struggled through the pale lips of the earl’s daughter.