"There is not a picture on the walls half so lovely as her living face," he said to himself, exultantly, looking at the fair flower-face with its full crimson lips, its oval outline, its wine dark eyes with such wealth of jetty lashes softly fringing them, and the soft, bright fringe of love-locks, shading the low, white brow. The splendid diamond solitaires in her rosy ears flashed and sparkled with every turn of the restless little head, and were wondrously becoming to her style. It was no wonder that St. Leon's eyes turned often from the changeless canvas to dwell in fondest admiration on the living face full of the glow and flash and sparkle of youthful beauty and happiness. He told her that she was more beautiful than the pictured faces on the walls, and her eyes flashed with joy, and her face flushed rosily. She was so glad of the fairness God had given her, she never wearied of hearing about it. It was the link by which she hoped to hold her husband when he found out the truth about her. She often asked herself anxiously which would be the stronger in that terrible hour--his love or his pride--but she could never answer her own question. She loved St. Leon, but she did not yet understand him. They were standing in front of a seraphic-looking Madonna, when suddenly he touched her arm, and whispered in her ear: "Some others are waiting to look at this, dear. Let us move on." She turned her beautiful, happy face from the picture toward the group who had just come up to them--a young lady and gentleman with a trim maid following after, some rich, warm wraps over her arm. They were Cyril Wentworth, his wife, and her maid Clarice. The beautiful smile froze on Laurel's lips as she met their startled, wondering gaze. She uttered a moan like one dying, and all in a moment fell senseless on the floor. CHAPTER XXVII. More than once, since they came to England, Clarice Wells said, anxiously, to her mistress: "I am afraid Miss Vane has laid her plans to marry Mr. Le Roy. Why else should she have wished to remain at Eden?" But Beatrix, who was very fond of the lovely girl who had made such a sacrifice for her sake, would not believe it. "She was a dear, good, honest child," she said. "I had hard work to persuade her to personate me for a little while. Her exaggerated notion of gratitude was all that tipped the scale in my favor, allowing a little for her romantic pity for two despairing lovers. I am sure she would not attempt an intrigue at her own risk." "One risks a great deal for love's sake," said Clarice Wells. "You would know that by your experience, Mrs. Wentworth." "But Laurel was not in love with Mr. Le Roy. She was afraid of him. She wrote me to that effect," objected pretty Beatrix, fixing her large blue eyes surprisedly on Clarice's sober face.