"My poor Ivy. Could you think so meanly of me?" he exclaims. "But think, dear. How could we rest secure with this terrible charge hanging over us? Were it not better that I should take steps to prove the truth or falsity of this fair lady's bold accusation?" "Take steps--how?" the bejeweled little woman falters confusedly. "Nothing easier," he answers. "I shall cable to Washington to have my first wife's grave opened. If her remains are found undisturbed, then you are still my wife, Ivy, and this lady's story is an imposture. But if Vera's grave be found empty, I shall be forced to believe that Lady Fairvale is in sober reality the Vera whom, for three years, we believed dead and buried." He speaks to Ivy, but he looks at Vera. Something in that glance makes her turn pale and flash a glance of silent scorn upon him. "She is not Vera. She is an impostor whom Lawrence Campbell put into the place of his dead daughter," Ivy screams, impetuously, clinging to him with both hands. "Come away from her, Leslie. She is a false and wicked woman, and we will yet prove her so--will we not, mamma?" "Yes, it shall be war to the knife between us," Mrs. Cleveland mutters, menacingly, flinging a glance of deadly hatred upon Lady Vera's pale and lovely face. "Come away now, Leslie, and bring Ivy home. She is too slight and frail to bear all this excitement." Silently obeying the imperious will that has ruled him for almost three years, Leslie Noble moves away with Ivy on his arm, after a courteous bow to Vera, which she returns with a cold stare of contempt. "Lady Vera, shall I take you away also? You look weary and exhausted," says Colonel Lockhart, in a low voice that shows intense self-repression and emotion. She starts and shivers at the sound of his voice. "If you will be so kind," she answers, sadly, and moving away on his supporting arm she meets Lady Clive and Mrs. Vernon coming toward her. Their grave faces show instantly that they know all. Lady Vera pauses, with a strange, cold smile. "Mrs. Vernon, I am sure you will never forgive me for my undignified act in creating an excitement and a sensation at your party. I was compelled to keep my oath to the dead. Yet _she_ forced it on me. I did not mean to speak--just yet," she falters, incoherently, and Mrs. Vernon, who is the kindest woman alive, presses her hand, and murmurs gently, "Poor darling," while Lady Clive murmurs tenderest words of sympathy and love. It is too much for Lady Vera--this gentleness and love after the exciting scene through which she has passed. Her forced calmness and self-control give way beneath its softening spell. She reels dizzily, and only Colonel Lockhart's support prevents her from falling. In a moment he says to his sister, anxiously: "She has fainted, Nella. What shall we do?" "Bring her up-stairs into my _boudoir_," replies Mrs. Vernon, promptly and kindly. "We will revive her directly." But Lady Clive negatives the proposal, decidedly.