"Good-night, my lord; I shall not see you in the morning--there is no more to be said?" "Nothing." "Good-night," this from the door. "I shall see you in London, soon; till then fare ye well, Marius." "Farewell, my lord." The massive door opened and closed; the Earl was alone in the stately silent room with the ticking of the patient clock, the only sound beside his own movements to disturb the summer stillness. He went to the window, opened it on the sweet mysterious dark and stood erect, looking out; he considered his wife, she had behaved as he had expected--it afforded him some bitter amusement to contrast her with Selina Boyle. How would she have acted in this wretched scene they had just brought to an end?--she, elusive, spiritual, delicate in manners, softest and proudest of women. And it might as well have been, they might as well have left it altogether and found amid the dreamy luxury of Venice stately happiness. My lord came back to the desk and picked up the miniature Marius had worn so many weeks next his heart. The pure and steady breeze, entering like a welcome visitant through the open window, turned the candles into smoky torches and stirred the pomaded curls of Rose Lyndwood on his shoulders as he bent over the picture of his wife. For a moment he was quite still and the emotion that took him was beyond thoughts as thoughts are beyond words; he made a quick movement of his hand to his heart, and any desperate thing seemed possible. One of the candles blew out. My lord gave a start and looked round; a sigh escaped him, then he bitterly smiled and quietly laid the picture down. It was none of it great or heroic; as Marius had said, there was nothing to do but to go on. Meanwhile the Countess Agatha must be told. He extinguished the other light and went in search of Susannah Chressham. CHAPTER X A LADY SCORNED When the Countess Lavinia left the library she went instantly and stealthily to the foot of the great stairway. "Honoria!" she called in a hushed yet insistent voice. "Honoria!" A slight figure in a light dress and mob cap appeared on the first wide landing. "Come down," said the Countess, glancing furtively behind her, and the maid noiselessly and carefully descended. "What has happened, my lady?" she asked, peering into her mistress's face, her own sharp fair countenance alert and eager; she had an air of secret malice and quick, unpleasant eyes. The Countess clutched her arm. "Come into the garden, not another moment under his roof, not another moment!" she whispered feverishly. The maid expressed no astonishment, nor did her mistress seem to expect it; they had the manner of adepts in quick confidences and whispered exchanges of dangerous talk. With a light step that seemed that of taught secrecy, Honoria preceded her mistress down the passage, and softly opened the door. The two came out on to the wide steps where the moonlight lay still and pure.