The answer came softly, and the man’s heart was thrilled to the core. “And something more,” he pleaded passionately. “Tell me that you love me like that.” Belle slowly, gently shook her head. “No. Why do you make it so hard for me? Leave me, I entreat you.” Hammond turned faint. “You do not love me, then?” he gasped. She gave him a despairing look, and answered passionately: “No! I don’t love you--I don’t love you!” He rose up, without another word, and went away from her. The next instant, as the door closed behind him, Belle sank down on the seat, like a flower whose stem is broken, and the tears began to come like rain. A door at the far end of the conservatory softly opened, and a man stepped through and came towards her, with his finger on his lips. It was the Marquis of Severn. SCENE X “A MARRIAGE HAS BEEN ARRANGED” The most secluded place in the house in Berkeley Square was the picture-gallery. The most secluded spot in the picture-gallery was the Lovers’ Window. The gallery itself ran across the back of the house on the second floor, and was thus outside the legitimate bounds within which the concert guests were entitled to wander. It was approached by a door at each end, giving on to the staircase, and the walls were hung with pictures, chiefly of the faded, washed-out schools of Lawrence and Constable. The window was a deep and lofty bay, almost a little room, in the centre of the gallery. A cushioned seat, like a divan, ran round the bay, and on either side of the opening hung a thick curtain of dark-purple velvet. In this sequestered nook no sound of the concert going on below could be heard. It was no doubt for this reason that the Lady Victoria Mauleverer had come thither, and was now reclining on the divan, with one beautiful white elbow resting on the sill of the open window. As it happened, she was not alone. Captain Gerald Mauleverer, guided possibly by some cousinly instinct, had also sought a refuge from the music in the same spot. He was sitting near her, and regarding her with a reproachful countenance. “Do you know what my aunt has been telling me about you?” he began. Victoria gave a shrug of the most supreme indifference. “No; but I have no doubt it was something interesting. My mother has so much imagination.” “She told me that you were as good as engaged.” “Did she? Ah, well, I suppose she has found a purchaser for me at last.” “How can you!” Gerald stamped his foot. “Who is it?” “She did tell me his name, but I have forgotten it,” drawled Victoria. “I can tell you his income, though.” Her cousin looked at her, half angry and half pleased. “Thank Heaven, you don’t care for him! I believe I have your heart, after all.” “My what?” asked Victoria, in a tone of surprised curiosity. “Your heart, you hateful creature.”