"What should I know of her more than of any other actress? They are all the same to me, like pictures, which I admire or not, from the outside. I am told that some are women of fashion who go everywhere, and that it is a privilege to know them; and that some one ought hardly to speak about, though one may go to see them; while there are others----" "Who hover like stars between two worlds," said Lady Cumberbridge. "Yes, that's all true. And nobody has told you anything about Stella Mayne?" "No one!" "Then I'm very sorry I mentioned her name to you. I dare say you will hate me if I tell you the truth: people always do; because, in point of fact, truth is generally hateful. We can't afford to live up to it." "I shall be grateful to you if you will tell me all that there is to be told about this actress, who seems in some way to be concerned----" "In your niece's happiness? Well, no, my dear, we will hope not. It is all a thing of the past. Your friends have been remarkably discreet. It is really extraordinary that you should have heard nothing about it; but, on reflection, I think it is really better you should know the fact. Stella Mayne is the young woman for whom Mr. Hamleigh nearly ruined himself three years ago." Mrs. Tregonell turned white as death. Her mind had not been educated to the acceptance of sin and folly as a natural element in a young man's life. In her view of mankind the good men were all Bayards--fearless, stainless; the bad were a race apart, to be shunned by all good women. To be told that her niece's future husband--the man for whose sake her whole scheme of life had been set aside, the man whom Christabel and she had so implicitly trusted--was a fashionable libertine--the lover of an actress--the talk of the town--was a revelation that changed the whole colour of life. "Are you sure that this is true?" she asked, falteringly.