“Good-by, Margaret,” he said. “You shall hear the whole pitiful story in a day or two. Sir Harold is in no danger, but his mind concerning the past is blank. He does not know even me. He does not remember Lady Elaine, and now I believe it is better so. I have been cherishing some pet schemes for trying to restore his memory, but now all is over.” He went away, cursing at the frailty of women, and Miss Nugent thanked Heaven when he was gone. “It is hard to believe,” she thought, “that Elaine would so soon succumb to the pleadings of the viscount, but did I not see her clasped to his bosom with my own eyes? I must find out what it all means.” Had she waited one moment longer, when she was spying upon the viscount and Lady Elaine, how different would her feelings have been! Recovering from her astonished bewilderment, Elaine had pushed her suitor indignantly aside, a flash of loathing and disgust in her eyes. “How dare you?” she panted. “How dare you take advantage of me in so cowardly a manner? I hate and despise you for it!” Rivington fell back aghast. He had not expected this. In his first flush of triumph he believed that she accepted his embraces willingly. “Lady Elaine,” he said, “what harm have I done you? I offer you the fond love of an honest heart. I have never loved any woman but you, and fancied that the reward of my patience and hope was at hand. Forgive me if I have been mistaken.” He spoke so penitently that she felt sorry for her harsh words. “Viscount, I thought that it was a settled thing between us that I have no love to give any man now,” she said, sorrowfully. “I shall never marry, and this talk of love cuts me to the soul! If you value my friendship, you will never hint at love again. My heart is dead to all other but the love that is past.” He knew not what to say to this, and paced the floor in angry disappointment. “I cannot live without you, Lady Elaine!” he said, at last. “I have loved you for two years. I can wait for years longer if you will but give me one spark of hope.” She shook her head mournfully. “You will forget what is gone,” he went on, desperately. “Time will heal the wound----” “You must not continue in this strain,” she interrupted, sadly but firmly, “if we are to be friends. I can give you no hope, Viscount Rivington. Even if I had never met my lover, who is dead, I could not have cared for you--only as a--a friend--as my father’s guest. I can never love again, and once more I warn you that if you do not put this vain and useless desire away from you I will not speak to you or recognize you any more.” He bowed his head in silence. In his heart he was a raging demon. He told himself that he would never give her up. They passed through the ballroom together, and my Lord of Seabright watched them with glances of approval. Lady Elaine escaped to her apartments and retired for the night, while Viscount Rivington and Margaret Nugent conversed in the open air.