Lady Etwynde looks at her wistfully. In her own great happiness she can feel tenfold the sorrowful fate of these sundered lives. "And he is going to break off his marriage?" she says anxiously. "Yes," says Lauraine. "He says to go through with it is beyond his power." "Poor fellow!" exclaims Lady Etwynde, with involuntary compassion. She is angry with him, and yet sorry for him, for he has proved so faithful; and, after all, is any love quite unselfish if it be worth the name? "My poor Lauraine!" she murmurs involuntarily. "Your marriage has indeed been a fatal error; but, as I have said before, there remains nothing but to make the best of it. The only thing for you and Keith is separation. All other feelings except that one forbidden one are a poor pretence. I feared that long ago. I am glad you have been so brave, and he too. Believe me, hard as duty is, the very effort of doing it creates strength for further trials. The consciousness of right is a satisfaction in itself, even when one is misjudged." Lauraine listens, and the tears stand on her lashes, and roll slowly down her cheeks. "My life is very hard," she says bitterly. "Would it be less hard if you had ceased to respect yourself, if you had lost the creeds and faiths which still make honour your one anchor of safety? I think not." "I can think of nothing now save him and his unhappiness," cries Lauraine wildly. "I have never loved him as I love him to-day. Oh! I know it is wrong, shameful to say such a thing; but it is the truth, and I must speak it--this once. Why, do you know that when he said good-bye to me I could have flung myself at his feet and said, 'Let the world go by, let sin or misery be my portion for evermore--only do not you leave me!' It seemed as if nothing in life was worth anything beside one hour of love! And yet--well, how good an actress I must be, Etwynde--he called me cold-hearted." "Thank God he did!" exclaims Lady Etwynde. "Oh, Lauraine, your good angel must have saved you to-day. I did not think it had come to this; and I cannot find it in my heart to blame you, for--I love too." "And my husband taunted me with being no better than other women, simply because I had never been tempted," continues Lauraine presently. "Well, perhaps in heart I am not. He may have been right, and virtue is, after all, only a matter of--temperament." "Oh, hush! I cannot bear to hear you talk like that," cries Lady Etwynde. "Does he--does Sir Francis suspect anything?"