"And my wife," he interrupted, "before the world, my wife; which is what you, I think, desired, madam." "Your wife!" she echoed wildly. He answered her coldly. "Your life has been as you have made it." "My life hath been Hell," answered the Countess vehemently; she cast the pearls down on the table beside the flaring unsnuffed candle. "Ever since I met you I have lived in bitter unhappiness." She looked at the Earl with dangerous eyes. "Had I married your brother I might have been a contented woman, he is an honourable man." Rose Lyndwood laughed. "Cannot that rouse you!" she cried. "What are you become, my lord?" "The utter folly of our discussing these matters!" he answered, smiling. "We waste our breath, madam, and I, for one, am weary of it." The Countess caught up her father's letter. "What have you to say to this?" she demanded. "Nothing." He looked at his reflection in the mirror above the mantelshelf and yawned. "What will you do to avert this ruin?" she asked, trembling. "Still nothing." He looked at her now, over his shoulder, and the extreme handsomeness of his face was impressed on her suddenly, like an added insult. "And about Selina Boyle, poor shadow of sentiment, you will do nothing?" she sneered. "And you will face the laughter, the comment, and still do nothing. Ah! you have no fire nor life left in you, Lord Lyndwood, you are become a worthless rake indeed." Still she could not move him; he yawned again and thrust his hands into the embroidered pockets of his white velvet waistcoat. "Do you think you care for her?" cried the Countess, furious. "It is a paltry pretence; if I died to-morrow you would marry another woman with money and whistle Selina Boyle down the wind." "The candle requires snuffing," said Rose Lyndwood; "but I do not wish to burn my fingers nor can I see the snuffers." He smiled with his pale lips and his fickle grey eyes. "Good-night, madam." The Countess took a step forward as he moved towards the door; it seemed she would have struck him, but he made a motion with his hand as if he brushed her aside, laughed in her face and left the room. He did not close the door. The Countess, looking after him, saw in the dimly lit hall the figure of Honoria Pryse in a dark wrapper, moving back secretively as she was surprised by my lord's sudden appearance. "I was coming for her ladyship," she said in a tone of covert defiance. Rose Lyndwood glanced from maid to mistress, and both winced; then he passed slowly up the dark stairs. Honoria Pryse came into the drawing-room and closed the door; her first action was to snuff the candle and set it further on the table. The Countess sank down upon the sofa, and with a groan hid her face in the bend of her arm. "He knows," said the maid, thrusting the loose gold hair back under her mob.