They call him Beau Lyndwood, thought the young man with a slight sense of distaste. Contemplation of his brother's splendour gave him an alien feeling. He turned away his eyes and stared across to the dark expanse of the window. My lord spoke. "When do you think of going to London?" "That is as you please, sir." "I told Willouby you would be coming to take up your commission soon. You had better write to him." "I will, to-night." Rose Lyndwood smiled. "And the lady?" he said sweetly. Marius coloured. "She is coming to London in September," he answered manfully. Of all things he loathed speaking of this to his brother. "She has not written to me, but I hardly expected it." He pulled himself up short. "This seems sorry foolery to you, sir." The Earl's charming smile deepened. "What did you call her?" "Aspasia," said Marius, staring in front of him. "Aspasia! It hath melancholy associations! Well, September is not so far. You must commend me to her when you meet." Marius rose. "I will write that letter in the library." He hesitated, then said awkwardly: "Give my duty to my lady your wife. I hope to meet her to-morrow." My lord still smiled in a manner that seemed to put a measureless distance between them, and as Marius turned to leave the room he walked over to the two ladies in the inner chamber. "A likeness to something--to someone," the Countess Agatha was saying. "I cannot think where." "What gossip do ye broach?" asked the Earl. Susannah bent over her harp, but his mother answered at once. "We were speaking of your Lavinia," she said. "I could swear I had seen her face before." "Her type," replied Rose Lyndwood, "is not uncommon. And now will you sing to me, Susannah?" Marius had lights brought into the library, and seated himself at the great desk between the bookshelves, where my lady had sat that evening when her son had told her of his ruin. After arranging his paper and sharpening a quill, Marius leant back in the comfortable chair and fell into a happy musing. The future was good to dwell on. The colour crept into his cheeks, and the fire into his eyes, and his boyishly handsome face softened into a dreamy expression. The candles burning either side the desk showed a pleasant picture of him, elegant, young, wide-browed and fair, with fresh, untaught lips, one hand slackly holding the quill, the other hanging by his side, grey silk and soft lace adorning his slim figure, and his bright hair brushing the dark background of the carved seat. Suddenly the door opened and shut. Marius dropped the quill with a start. "Is that you, my lord? I have not even begun the letter." He looked over his shoulder and remained in that attitude, clasping the arm of the chair. The Countess Lavinia stood inside the door. Her close purple gown was undone at the throat. Her complexion a ghastly colour; she wore no ornaments. "Aspasia!" said Marius. "Hush!" she answered. "Hush!" He rose now, still staring at her.