From the distance came subdued bursts of music, and close by a fountain sent its diamond drops through the neighboring blossoms, and their bell-like tinkle sounded clear and silvery as they fell upon the tesselated marble of the floor. Of all places on earth, this was the brightest for a meeting of lovers. But these two persons had grey hairs upon their temples, and a look of such unutterable pain in their faces that all this perfume, and the musical fall of water-drops, seemed but a mockery of something that had been. “You wished to speak with me,” said Herman Ross in a low, sad voice. “I think we are alone here.” “Yes, Herman!” The man started. Something in the tone of Mrs. Lambert’s voice, as she uttered the name, sent a pang through his whole system. Still he seemed calm, and his voice changed but little when he spoke again. “Is there anything you wish to tell me?” Ross asked this question earnestly, and his eyes dwelt on the troubled face of the woman with almost imploring earnestness. “Anything I wish to tell?” repeated the lady, with a startled look. “What could I have, that you do not already know? I—I wished rather to ask a question?” “Well, I am here and have nothing to conceal.” “Ah! how coldly you speak, Herman!” “How else should I speak, Mrs. Lambert?” “I do not know—I ought not to care; but I do—I do!” The woman spoke with anguish; she did not weep, but there was something more thrilling than tears in her voice. “There was a time when I believed you,” said Ross. “That was when I had a right to ask. Then you would have believed me against the world.” “Yes, I would have believed you against the whole world.” “But now——” “Now I believe nothing, without proof.” “But I will believe you, asking no better proof than your bare word.” “In what?” The woman hesitated. In her first passion she had thought it an easy thing to question him; but his chilling calm daunted her. “Herman, tell me, and, oh! let it be truth! Do you love that girl?” The woman clasped her hands, and wrung them together as she spoke. Ross looked at her a moment in grave silence. “I suppose you mean Miss Laurence.” “Yes, I mean her.” “You ask if I love her?” “Yes, yes! Oh, tell me!” Ross paused a moment, but he did not remove his eyes from the woman’s face. “Will you never speak?” she cried, passionately. “You ask if I love this girl, and I answer. Is there any reason against it?” “You do! You do! And almost confess it to me?” “To you, above all other persons, I deny any right to question me.” “Right! I have no rights; only it would be merciful if you would set my mind at rest.” “But I do not wish to answer.” “Oh, God help me! This is hard!” cried the woman, looking wildly around, as if a power of help lay in the beautiful shrubs. “Is this conscience?” said Ross, bending his eyes sternly upon her. “Conscience! Conscience!” “Madam, once for all, if you have anything to confess——” “To confess!”