A sneer distorted Sir John’s features. When not blinded by passion, he saw clearly through character and motives. He had by this discerned Clara’s dislike to Lady Alice, and now felt convinced she suggested the scheme as she guessed he would have his suspicions confirmed. He saw thus far, but he did not see through a far darker plot—he did not see that, in the deep game they played against him, Charles and Clara were confederates. ‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐ That was a pleasant room; without, through bayed windows, lay a wide and fertile prospect of sunny landscape; within, it was handsomely and luxuriously furnished. There were books in gorgeous bindings; a range of marble pillars swept its length; stands of flowers, vases of agate and alabaster, were scattered on every side; and after breakfast Mardyn and Lady Alice made it their sitting-room. The morning after the scheme suggested by Clara, they were sitting in earnest converse, Lady Alice, looking pale and care-worn, was weeping convulsively. “You tell me you must go,” she said; “and were it a few months later, I would forsake all and accompany you. But for the sake of my unborn infant, you must leave me. At another time return, and you may claim me.” “Dear Alice,” he whispered softly, “dear, dear Alice, why did you not know me sooner? Why did you not love me more, and you would now have been my own, my wife?” “I was mad,” she replied, sadly; “but I have paid the penalty of my sin against you. The last year has been one of utter misery to me. If there is a being on earth I loathe, it is the man I must call my husband; my hatred to him is alone inferior to my love for you. When I think what I sacrificed for him,” she continued, passionately, “the bliss of being your wife, resigned to unite myself to a vapid sensualist, a man who was a spendthrift of his passions in youth, and yet asks to be loved, as if the woman most lost to herself could feel love for him.” It was what he wished. Lady Alice had spoken with all the extravagance of woman’s exaggeration; her companion smiled; she understood its meaning. “You despise, me,” she said, “that I could marry the man of whom I speak thus.” “No,” he replied; “but perhaps you judge Sir John harshly. We must own he has some cause for jealousy.” Despite his guarded accent, something smote on Lady Alice’s ear in that last sentence. She turned deadly pale—was she deceived? But in a moment the sense of her utter helplessness rushed upon her. If he were false, nothing but destruction lay before her—she desperately closed her eyes on her danger. “You are too generous,” she replied. “If I had known what I sacrificed—”