"Ah, you cannot guess with what feelings of despair I learned of him living," she answers. "It seemed to me for one awful moment that a hand of ice clutched my heart, and that I should surely die. It came over me like a death-warrant, at what fearful cost to myself I should keep my oath to my father. But I had sworn to do his bidding. There was no turning back for me when the fatal moment came." She pauses a moment, then resumes, with a mournful glance at Lady Clive: "You will never forgive me, I know, for making myself a sensation and a town talk, Lady Clive. By to-morrow all London will ring with my secret. Oh, the pity and shame! But I will not disgrace you further. I shall not remain your guest any longer. To-morrow I am going away." Then Colonel Lockhart speaks for the first time. "You must not let her go, Nella," he says, firmly. "Why?" cries out Lady Vera, startled. He hesitates a moment. Why should he imbue her mind with the doubts and fears that fill his own? And she asks again: "Why should I not go away, Colonel Lockhart?" "Because you will need the protection of your friends," he answers, gravely. "Do you think I am afraid of my enemies?" she asks, drawing her slight form proudly erect, and looking very brave and beautiful. "They may hate me as they will, but I defy them to harm me!" "It is not their hatred but their love you have to fear," he answers, significantly. "Love," she echoes, regarding him blankly. "Leslie Noble's love, I mean," he answers, with an effort. A low and mirthless laugh ripples over her lips. "I think you have mistaken me," she answers, bitterly. "He had no love for me. Ivy Cleveland held his heart. He only married me for pity's sake." "It may have been pity, then, but it is something deeper now," Colonel Lockhart answers, gravely. "That man means to claim you, Lady Vera. I read it in the glances he cast upon you." "Claim me!" she repeats, bewildered. "For his wife," he answers, bitterly, out of the pain of his heart. She starts to her feet with a little frightened cry, and flies to Lady Clive as if for protection. "No, no, he would not dare!" she pants, wildly. "I hate and despise him too much to speak to him, even! I defy him to claim me for his wife! I would sooner die than belong to him! And he--oh, he would not wish it! He loved Ivy, you know." "Do not pin your faith to that fact, Lady Vera," the baronet interposes gravely. "The lady, whom he claims for his wife now is many years older than you; she is faded, simpering, ridiculous. If he ever loved her, she must have made him rue that folly long since. Besides, she is not his real wife, and you are. Do not forget your great attractions, Lady Vera. You are young, beautiful, wealthy and titled. What more natural than that Leslie Noble should be dazzled by your manifold charms, and desire to claim you?" She regards him with absolute horror in her lovely, white face.