It had never entered her head that she would only read the notice of that mock marriage, and believe it real, not observing that it was connected with the remainder of the article describing Lady Sherbrooke’s ball. But she now saw that such was the case. Star believed that she was really Lady Carrol; and she knew something of what she must be suffering on account of it, and with a sense of cruel exultation she resolved to give the wheels of the rack that she was on another vigorous turn. She felt that the lovers would without doubt meet before long—perhaps that very evening, for she had seen his lordship there only a short time previous to this meeting, and she was assured he would waste no time in coming to an understanding with Star; but now, while she had her in her clutches, she would make the most of her opportunity. “I presume it is something of a disappointment to you to find me here, and—and situated just as—I am, when _you_ so confidently expected to win his lordship,” sneered Josephine. “You perceive that it is not always safe to be too trusting, and a young peer, even though he were traveling under an assumed name, and made love to a pretty, poverty-stricken girl, to while away an idle hour, could not be expected to marry her.” Star was very pale, but she was more than a match for the unfeeling girl in her proud beauty. She stood like a tall and stately lily before her, and to all outward appearance she was no more moved by her scathing words than the snows on the peaks of lofty mountains are stirred by the fierce winds in the valley far below them. “Lord Carrol did not travel under an assumed name. I have discovered that Sir Archibald Sherbrooke and Lord Carrol, of Carrolton, are one and the same,” Star replied, with cold dignity. Josephine started, then remembering, said: “Oh, of course; I forgot that both names were given in the notice of the marriage. But,” she went on, taking an intense delight in the torture she was sure she was inflicting, although her fair victim gave no sign, “you have no idea how lovely Cheshire House is—that is where the dowager Lady Sherbrooke lives; and Carrolton is even more delightful, I am told. We intend to go there before very long; but London is very gay just now, though it is out of season, and we are having such nice times that we prefer to remain here for the present.” She glanced at Star angrily. If she would but betray the least suffering, to show that she was wounded by this apparent triumph over her, she would have been content. But she stood there, her graceful form proudly erect, her shining head thrown slightly back, her eyes fixed upon her face with an indifferent glance that galled her almost beyond endurance, while her manner was that of indulgent politeness, as if she were but listening, in a well-bred sort of way, to the babblings of a spoiled child.