"Let there be no word of her between us," he said; "your lips shall not profane her name." She turned white and her hand went to her heart. "Forgive me," he said, hoarsely. Had he not promised to deal gently with her? "I have not come to utter reproaches--I came to shield you, if that were possible." "To shield!--from what?" she demanded, in a low murmur. "From the consequences of your crime," he said. "What that is, I have only learnt to-night; but for a chance accident the world would know to-morrow that Lady Lenore Beauchamp had stooped so low as to become the accomplice of Jasper Adelstone in a vile conspiracy." She waved her hand. "He dare not speak. I defy him!" Leycester held up his hand. "He is beyond your defiance," he said--"Jasper Adelstone is dead!" She made a gesture of contemptuous indifference. "What is that to me?" she said, hoarsely. "Why do you speak to me of him or any other man? Is it not enough that I have failed? Have you come to gloat over me? What is it that you want?" He thrust his hand in his breast, and drew forth the note. "I have come to restore this to you," he said. "I took it from the dead man's bosom--took it to save your reputation. The story it told me I have heard in fact from the lips of the girl you have plotted against and wronged. It is at her bidding that I am here--here to save you from scandal, and to cover if possible your retreat." "At her's--at Stella Etheridge's?" she breathed, as though the name would choke her. He waved his hand. "You will leave this house to-night. I have made all arrangements necessary, and you will start in an hour's time." She laughed discordantly. "And if I say I will not?" He looked at her sternly. "Then I will tell the story to my mother and you shall hear your dismissal from her lips. Choose!" She dropped into a chair, and made a gesture of scorn. "Tell whom you please," she said. "I am your affianced wife, my people are under your roof at this moment; go to them and tell them that you have deserted me for a low-born girl!" He turned and strode to the door; but ere he had reached it the reaction had come. With a low cry, she flew to him and sank at his feet, her hands clasped on his arm, her face upturned with an awful imploration. "Leycester, Leycester! Do not leave me! Do not go! Leycester, I was wrong, wicked, base, vile; but it was all for you--for you! Leycester, listen to me! You will not go! Do not fling me from you! Look at me, Leycester!" He did look at her, lovely in her abandon and despair, and then averted his eyes; it horrified him to see her so low and degraded.