“No. When I married, I meant never to see her again. It was her distress, and mere pity for her wants and miseries, that ever led me back to her. I did not then know what you really were. I thought you beautiful and gentle, but it was not till later that I learned to honour you as a being of a holier, higher nature than any I had yet met with. At the very time when you shut up your heart from me, mine was filled with admiration, respect, and affection for you. Half the jealousy I felt was, I believe, sorrow to see the first and only being in whose unsullied purity I had firmly believed, on the point of becoming contaminated by collision with the world.” Lucy was touched by this homage to the rectitude of her intentions, and she thought there would be something satisfactory in redeeming her whole sex in his estimation. She also thought if she could lead him to see the real guilt of those errors which he had hitherto looked upon as so venial, she should be promoting his welfare in this world and the next. With these feelings she answered smilingly, “I am glad you entertained such a good opinion of me, and I should be very, very sorry to forfeit it. You shall continue to respect me.” “And to love you, dearest Lucy. Though I could not have reached the age at which I married without having been in love before, still, to love you as I never loved any woman but you——” “Thank you,” answered Lucy, and she sighed to think that his tenderness awakened no corresponding emotion in her bosom; that it was forgiveness, satisfaction, kindness, that she felt, but no responsive love. On the contrary, the word rather chilled her; for she felt it impossible to return the sentiment expressed; and she hastily added, “Well, good by; I see your horses in the street, and I am going to take the child to play with the Duchess of Altonworth’s grandchildren.” They parted in kindness, and they met again before dinner in the same frame of mind. Lionel Delville, who had calculated upon finding Lucy alone, as Lord Montreville was apt to be late for dinner, entered the apartment before any of the rest of the company had arrived. At first he thought the old fellow must be very jealous to have made so unusual an exertion; but he soon perceived that a perfect understanding subsisted between them, and that Lord Montreville’s countenance no longer betrayed any sign of uneasiness at his approach. He sat, as usual, by Lady Montreville at dinner, and he again found the open, straightforward manner which, when first he met her, had so completely baffled him. The _gêne_ and shyness which were the consequence of feeling herself suspected, had completely vanished. She knew that her husband now had perfect confidence in her; she knew that he did justice to the purity of her intentions, and she mentally resolved he should never, never have cause to doubt them.