"Secret!" cried Flo, bitterly; "a secret that is known to all the country side. No, Cecil; your advice is very good, I dare say; but it is advice that I can never act upon. I have made a mistake, but I made it with my eyes open; and I will never tell my father how miserably my folly has come home to me. He gave his consent to my marriage with such reluctance; he knew that I was selling myself for fine clothes and a splendid establishment. But I tried to deceive him--I tried to deceive myself. Modern London is a kind of Maelstrom, Cecil, and my poor foolish head was giddy with all that confusion of carriages and horses, and bric-à-brac and jewelry. Every body is so rich nowadays, and one is stifled with the wealth of other people. I had begun to think that life was intolerable without a million of money, some time before I met Mr. Lobyer. He was the first millionaire who crossed my path, and I accepted him blindly. But I thought that he asked me to be his wife because he loved me, Cecil--honestly, after his own unromantic fashion--and I meant to do my duty to him; I did indeed, Cecil." "I believe it, darling; and you may still do your duty," answered Cecil, bending tenderly over the slight figure. Mrs. Lobyer had slipped from the low chair to the ground, and was half-sitting, half-kneeling, at her friend's feet. "What, with a Miss de Raymond in the background? Never, Cecil! Besides, I had long given over that idea of doing my duty. Within a week of my marriage I discovered how mistaken I had been in thinking Mr. Lobyer cared for me. It was for his own glorification, the gratification of his own vanity that he married me; and I am not so much to him as his horses or his dogs, for he takes some pleasure in their society. He swore at me before our honeymoon was over, because I ventured to remonstrate with him for his brutality to a waiter who had made some mistake about the arrangements of the dinner. From that time all thought of doing my duty honestly and conscientiously, as I had meant to do it, was over. Our marriage was reduced to the level of a bargain, and I resolved to perform my part of the bargain as fairly as I could. So I dress to the best of my ability, and I receive my husband's friends, and am civil even to those Manchester people; and I fill up invitation-cards, and give the housekeeper her orders, and discuss the arrangements of the house--who is to have the blue-room, and who is to have the chintz-room, and who we may venture to put upon the second-floor, and so on. With regard to Sir Nugent Evershed, I will frankly confess that he is an unutterable relief to me after Manchester; and if I flirt with him a little now and then, I consider myself quite at liberty to do so. To-night my nerves were irritated by the rencontre of the afternoon, and I dare say I behaved very foolishly. I wanted to demonstrate my defiance of my husband. I wished to show these people--who, no doubt, know all about Miss de Raymond--I