“Cultivate a more credulous spirit. What he told you was perfectly true, and so was his further information that this delay is almost intolerable to me.” “I’ll start to-night,” said Mansfield, reproaching himself deeply. “You can do nothing, unfortunately. I must see the Queen myself, and approach her _in forma pauperis_. You know that I treated her shamefully?” “No. You can’t make me believe that.” “But it is true, you see. King Michael behaved to her badly enough, but it was not that which drove her into exile in Syria. She would have gone with me cheerfully to poverty and obscurity in England, but I would not take her. She entreated me on her knees, but I refused to listen.” Cyril spoke in a hard, even voice, and when he ceased there was silence in the room. Mansfield tried in vain to think of something to say, and each moment made the silence harder to interrupt. “I would never have believed it if any one else had told me,” he groaned at last, breaking the spell with a mighty effort. “I knew that. You and I have taken a fancy to one another, Mansfield, and I was curious to see what you would say when you knew how I had treated the woman----” “Who loved you,” supplied Mansfield, in a tone which was at once harsh and dull. “And whom I loved.” There was a further silence, then Mansfield came hesitatingly forward. “I can’t help it,” he said. “I should never have thought I could speak civilly to a man who had done such a thing as that, but--it’s you.” “My dear Mansfield!” The reaction from the strained feeling of the moment before forced a smile from Cyril. Mansfield sitting in judgment upon him, and allowing his just severity to be biassed by his affection for the culprit, was very funny. “You hate the sin, but you have a sneaking kindness left for the sinner, eh?” Mansfield laughed uncomfortably, and Cyril shook his head. “I am afraid I shall have to send you back to England, Mansfield. You must be deteriorating horribly, if you can condone such a departure from your creed, even in my case. I suppose I have corrupted you. What would Lady Phil say?” “I shall never tell her. It would make her too miserable--about you, I mean. But, Count----” “Go on. I will relieve your wounded feelings in any way I can.” “You were intending to--to try and get the Queen to be reconciled?” “Before there was any idea of its being to my advantage? Yes.” “And you mean to do it still? You think she will forgive you?” “The woman I used to know would forgive me. But suppose she is changed? I have no right to expect anything else, and I have only myself to thank. There is just one thing----” “Yes?” said Mansfield eagerly. “Some time ago I was shown a photograph of her, taken since she left Europe. The woman who showed it to me would have been the last person in the world to wish to give me any hope, but she did not see the significance of what I noticed. On the Queen’s arm there was a bracelet----” “Which you had given her?”