"So that if there is anything behind the scenes which has been kept from me; that is, if it be not of your own good and free will that you marry me; if you gave up Captain Cross _liking_ him, because--because--well, though I feel ashamed to suggest such a thing--because my rank may be somewhat higher than his, or for any other reason: why then matters had better be at an end between us. No harm will have been done, Blanche." Blanche's face was drawn and white. "Do you mean that you wish to give me up?" "_Wish_ it! It would be the greatest pain I could ever know in life. My dear, have you failed to understand me? I want you; I want you to be my wife; but not at the sacrifice of my honour. If Captain Cross----" Blanche broke down. "Oh, _don't_ leave me to him!" she implored. "Of course, I could never, never marry him now; I would rather die. Indeed, I do not quite know what you mean. It was all just as you have been told by papa; there was nothing kept behind." Lord Level pillowed her head upon his arm. "Blanche, my dear, it was you who invoked this," he whispered, "by talking of Mr. Ravensworth's reflection on you in his 'strict honour.' Be assured I would not leave you to Captain Cross unless compelled to do so, or to any other man." Her tears were falling. Lord Level kissed them away. "Shall I _buy_ you, my love?--bind you to me with a golden fetter?" And, taking a small case from his waistcoat-pocket, he slipped upon her marriage finger a hoop of gold, studded with diamonds. His deep-gray eyes were strained upon her through their dark lashes--eyes which had done mischief in their day--and her hand was lingering in his. "There, Blanche; you see I have bought you; you are my property now--my very own. And, my dear, the ring must be worn always as the keeper of the marriage-ring when you shall be my wife." It was a most exquisite relief to her. Blanche liked him far better than she had liked Captain Cross. And as Lord Level pressed his last kiss upon her lips--for Mrs. Guy was heard approaching--Blanche could never be sure that she did not return it. A few more interviews such as these, and the young lady would be in love with him heart and soul. * * * * * And it may as well be mentioned, ere the chapter quite closes, that Mr. Charles Strange was out of the way of all this plotting and planning and love-making. The whole of that spring he was over in Paris, watching a case involving English and French interests of importance, that was on before the French courts, and of which Brightman and Strange were the English solicitors. CHAPTER VII. TRIED AT THE OLD BAILEY. "Oh, Mrs. Guy, he is coming, after all! He is indeed!" Blanche Heriot's joyful tones, as she read the contents of a short letter brought in by the evening post, aroused old Mrs. Guy, who was dozing over her knitting one Tuesday evening in the May twilight. "Eh? What, my dear? Who do you say is coming?"