"Mrs. Evelin; Lord--" She looked at her husband. The utterance of his name was instantly suspended on her lips. Mrs. Evelin's hand, turning cold at the same moment in her hand, warned her to look round. The face of the woman more than reflected the inconcealable agitation in the face of the man. The wife's first words, when she recovered herself, were addressed to them both. "Which of you can I trust," she asked, "to tell me the truth?" "You can trust both of us," her husband answered. The firmness of his tone irritated her. "I will judge of that for myself," she said. "Go back to the next room," she added, turning to Mrs. Evelin; "I will hear you separately." The companion, whose duty it was to obey--whose modesty and gentleness had won her mistress's heart--refused to retire. "No," she said; "I have been deceived too. I have _my_ right to hear what Lord Howel has to say for himself." Beaucourt attempted to support the claim that she had advanced. His wife sternly signed to him to be silent. "What do you mean?" she said, addressing the question to Mrs. Evelin. "I mean this. The person whom you speak of as a nobleman was presented to me as 'Mr. Vincent, an artist.' But for that deception I should never have set foot in your ladyship's house." "Is this true, my lord?" Lady Howel asked, with a contemptuous emphasis on the title of nobility. "Quite true," her husband answered. "I thought it possible that my rank might prove an obstacle in the way of my hopes. The blame rests on me, and on me alone. I ask Mrs. Evelin to pardon me for an act of deception which I deeply regret." Lady Howel was a just woman. Under other circumstances she might have shown herself to be a generous woman. That brighter side of her character was incapable of revealing itself in the presence of Mrs. Evelin, young and beautiful, and in possession of her husband's heart. She could say, "I beg your pardon, madam; I have not treated you justly." But no self-control was strong enough to restrain the next bitter words from passing her lips. "At my age," she said, "Lord Howel will soon be free; you will not have long to wait for him." The young widow looked at her sadly--answered her sadly. "Oh, my lady, your better nature will surely regret having said that!" For a moment her eyes rested on Beaucourt, dim with rising tears. She left the room--and left the house. There was silence between the husband and wife. Beaucourt was the first to speak again. "After what you have just heard, do you persist in your jealousy of that lady, and your jealousy of me?" he asked. "I have behaved cruelly to her and to you. I am ashamed of myself," was all she said in reply. That expression of sorrow, so simple and so true, did not appeal in vain to the gentler side of Beaucourt's nature. He kissed his wife's hand; he tried to console her.