"What, if you played 'cat's cradle' with her, Lady Lysson? you once spoke feelingly to me on this same subject." "What did I say? Oh, now I remember--I spoke of my poor Lysson, and myself, and----" "You advised me not to play at the game with Lady Dora--now I like _daring_ all, Lady Dora; will you show me how you play 'cat's cradle?'" and he took a piece of twisted silk from the table. "I don't know the game," she answered coldly. "I daresay Lady Lysson will instruct us; will you not?" and he held the silk towards her. "Willingly, beneath my own eye," she replied. "Not beyond?" "No! Lady Dora might use her feline qualities upon you." "Oh! I should little care," he answered pointedly, "to alter slightly the words of a talented, most unfortunate, and I believe most innocent woman, Madame Laffarge, if Lady Dora scratch me like a cat, so she will but love me like a dog." There was a dead silence of a moment--Lady Dora interrupted it by an allusion to the first portion of his speech, not seeming to have noticed the latter. "Do you believe Madame Laffarge was innocent?" "I believe all so, till proved otherwise. There was no proof but presumptive evidence against her; and she was surrounded by deceit and enemies." "Too often the case with many an innocent woman who has been falsely condemned!" ejaculated Lady Lysson, partially ignorant of Tremenhere's history. Lady Dora blushed painfully. The conversation had glided imperceptibly into this channel--how stop the current? "Right," he said calmly; "but in some cases a demon, or guilt alone, can collect this evidence. If we condemn, we do so innocently in the former case; and assuredly full many a crown of martyrdom has been more lightly won, than a woman's, thus condemned, thus punished!" Nothing seemed to touch him. Lady Dora had shuddered as this strange conversation commenced; for none there better than herself knew how much poor Minnie had suffered. She was lost in wonder at Tremenhere's sternness of heart; and yet, as a lioness loves her mate, so her proud, almost unwomanly nature, admired this man's, daily, more and more. "We forget 'cat's cradle!'" he cried, almost boyishly. "Lady Lysson, behold my willing hands."