"And what is that, your Ladyship?" "Mr. Stanley doesn't know that you're aware of my marriage, and for some reason which I don't understand, my husband forbade me to tell him of the fact unless I had your permission; so he fancies that he's put himself in a worse position than is really the case. Do allow me to tell him the truth. Poor fellow, he's so unhappy." "No," replied Miss Fitzgerald, a gleam of triumph lighting up her face, as she realised the power which Kingsland had placed in her hands. "Your husband is quite right; there are excellent reasons why he should not be told; besides he deserves to be miserable, he's treated me very badly." "In that case," said Lady Isabelle, stiffly, rising to go, "I've nothing more to say." "Quite right, Lady Isabelle, and may I give you a parting word of caution? When your husband, Lieutenant Kingsland, advises a course of action, follow it blindly." "Really, Miss Fitzgerald!" exclaimed her Ladyship, bridling up at the Irish girl's remark. "Good-night, Lady Isabelle," murmured Belle in her silkiest tones, opening the door, and laughing softly to herself, as her visitor rustled away in the distance. Then she leaned over the staircase and listened. No sound met her ears, but her eyes beheld the disconsolate figure of the Secretary, standing alone in the hall below. She tripped noiselessly down, and, arriving within a few paces of him unnoticed, drew herself up haughtily, and said, in her most chilling tones:-- "Will you kindly permit me to pass, Mr. Stanley?" "Belle--Miss Fitzgerald," he cried. "I must have a few words with you-- I must explain." "It's not necessary, Mr. Stanley. I've already heard a detailed account of the affair from Lady Isabelle's mother." On the verity of the statement we will not attempt to pass judgment; suffice it to say, that it simply staggered the young diplomat. "Good Lord!" he exclaimed. "I--it's not true, believe me, it's not true." "Do I understand you to insinuate that the Marchioness has prevaricated?" "No, no, of course not; but it's all a mistake. I can explain--really." "Mr. Stanley, answer me one question. Did you or did you not give the Marchioness to understand, in your interview with her this morning, that you wished to marry her daughter?" "Why, yes--I suppose I did--but, then, you see----" "That is quite sufficient. Good-night." "If you'd only let me explain!" "Good-night, Mr. Stanley," she repeated icily, and swept past him into the drawing-room. CHAPTER XXV THE RUSTLE OF A SKIRT "You graceless young dog!" cried Kent-Lauriston, falling upon Stanley in a half-feigned, half-real burst of anger, as he entered the smoking-room after his encounter with Belle. "Do you know you've caused me to refuse invitations by the score, and dragged me down to this God-forsaken place, at the most impossible season of the year, on false pretences?" "False pretences! How so?"