FOR ANOTHER'S SIN.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XXIII, Issue 7650, 29 May 1886, Page 3 (Supplement)

FOR ANOTHER'S SIN.

LV UKKTiIA M. CLAY, Author of " A Fair Slp'.ery," " Thrown on tbo World "Tho V.'c'iM letWL'C'i Them," "Bejond Ptiulju," &c. CHAPTER XXVIII. 11 YOB V. L'.-T MARRY A RICH man." All indifference, all apathy had vanished now. Her husband, her maid, had no more occasion to wonder at her utter want of excitement over what was perhaps tho mom important day of her life. The Duko smiled at the change. " She has caught the diamond mania," he said, to himself; "all ladies have it sooner or later." She had been so indifferent over her court dress that she had not even look' d at it; now she spent whole hours over it. It must be perfection, and perfection it was when her taste had been exercised upon it. She had forgotten the namo of Monsieur Anatole. Suddenly he became a great consequence in her eyes. So far from being iiKlitlerent, she became fastidious, iSo one could please her, nothing Wiiß good enough for her. Tho-e who hail despaired of her once were in rapairea at the change. A restless, feverish gaiety hud taken possession of the young Duchess. She talked that evening so brilliantly, bo amicably to her husband, that he was more thsn ever enohan'.e.d. She was gracious and condescending to everyone, and the reason wan, although ah.?, perhaps, neither admitted nor knew it, that blio was about to sue him again. She had miscalculated her strength, this beautiful woman with the passionate, loving heart. Her life had been a simple and 1 uneventful one until she met Lord Carew, and tho whole love of that strong, grand nature was , given to him. Sho was the only daughter"of tho Count Di Silvara, who lost hia fortune and his life in the civil war 1 that had rent the heart of unhappy Spain. She waa left alone in the world at the age of fifteen, and the only friend h!ic had was a distant relative living in London, a lady related to the young girl's mother. She, after a fashion of her own, adopted Jiunit.%. She saw that ohc would bo a magnificently beautiful woman, and she Gpoke very plainly to her. "Those who live in the world, and would keep any position in it," 11 •_• said, " mu3t be of the world, worldly. Yon are very beautiful, Nits. With your beauty and my influence you may marry any peer of the realm, Now attend to what I am going to say. Put all nonsense about hearts and love away from you. You must marry a rich man. If you marry a poor man, I will never look upon your face again. I have money ; if you marry to please me it will be yours ; if you marry against my will you shall never have one shilling of it. Always keep that; in mind." She was just; sixteen when she first met Allan Carew. Sixteen ! a child in years, but sho was iu heart and soul a woman. How ahe loved him no words could now tell ; all the passion, the tenderness, the fire of Spain's sunny daughters coetned to concentrate itself upon him. She loved him with a worship that frightened herself. She had no fear iu doing so. Her aunt, as she called Mrs. St. Clair, told her that he would one day be Lord Carew of Brooklands, and that she could not do better than marry him. On hie part Allan loved her after a fashion, lie thought her the most beautiful and graceful girl he had ever mot, but he did not make her any offer of marriage, aud before he had time to do so his father diod, and he found from his father's will, that unless he married Adelaide Carlton he wa3 disinherited. There was nothing for it then but to give up hia beautiful Nita, and when tho time came for parting with her, he found out how much and how well he loved her. To him the parting wa3 painful ; but to her, the brilliant young beauty who loved him with such passionate worship—it was more bitter than death itself. She was too proud to make any sign. "The daughtor oF a grand old race of cavaliers does not cry, even when wounded unto death," she said. "I will live, and live it down." She did her best to forgot him. She met tho Duko of Ormond, who, Admiring her

grand young beauty, asked her to be his wife. That was when she made miscalculations as to her own strength. She thought she could live without love—engrossed in fashion, gaiety, magnificoneo, and luxury. She thought herself strong enough to dispense with all that woman's heart holds dear, and sun was not. The Duke was a very courtly gentleman, very dignified and kind. She admired hia lofty bearing, and rather liked him than otherwise. But of love for him she had not the least notion, lie asked her to mirry him, and she knew that if she waited twenty years longer she would never have such another chance. •So she consented. She was to be Duchess of Ormond. She would be miatresa of these magnificent estates, and Ormond House, said to be the most magniticent mansion in London. Her dresses, jewels, carriages, and horses would be envied by half England. "What more can I want?" she said to herself, " I should be foolish to rcf«i3u aueh advantages as these.". She know that if Allan drew would have aaerilioedliiii inheritance for hersake.she would gladly have embraced poverty for his; but then lie had not mentioned suoh a thing. lie was married, and her heart was dead. Why not then marry the Duke, and try to be as happy as possible, with the tino advantages life still held for her. Mrs. St. Clair was delighted. " You have dono even bettsr than I anticipated, Nit ahe si-.id. "No one knows what the future holds for you." Shu knew it held nothing but the ashes of a dead lover, but;, true to her pride, she never mentioned Lord Carew's name, and Mrs. St. Clair always believed that she bad voluntarily given him up for the duke. They wcro married; and a grander wedding certainly never was celebrated ; but on that very day the duchess found out her mistake. Tho duko not only admired her, but he loved her very dearly. If ho had remained indifferent as she was, they might have passed through life comfortably, if not happily ; but iic loved his wife, and very naturally expected Home little love in return. She had none to give him. Liis loving words were moat distasteful to her ; she shrank from his caicnus; she never cured about being lefc alone with him. At tirsS he locked upon all this as pretty girlish ehynoas, and loved her the better for her coy, distant manner. Cut at last he began to wonder if there was anything else in it ; if the beautiful young wife whom he had so royally endowed were tired of him. The time wa3 to come when he would understand it all. Until tho present time she had nover thought much ofjsoeing Allan threw again ; it did not seem probable that they would moot. Tho world is very large, and they, who had once been all in all to each other, might never meet again. Hut now he was here in London, and they would probably meet every day. Wild, deep rapture tilled her heart -uueh rapture that, if she had known what she was doing, she would have gone on her knees, and prayed to Heaven to keep her soul from deadly peril. She was to aco him, ai.d not oniy him, but his wife, the fair woman he had married. What otrange fato made them rivals '! " 1 wonder what sho is like," thought the young Duchcas. " I wonder if ho loves her better than ho loved inc. I will outshine her. I will make him acknowledge that he has not married the fairest woman in the world. I will make him tell me that ho is sorry—ah, bo sorry that ho did not prefer poverty and mo. I wonder it he will look at mo with any of the old lovo in his eyes ; if he will remember as he looks at me, how I loved him—ah, dear iioaven, how i loved him." " You are co deep in reverie, my dear Juanita, that you do not even hear me," said the lAiko, with a smile. She looked up, and he saw from the vague, dreamy expression of her beautiful eyes, that her thoughts bad been far away ; that she had been i:i sumo other world, a world of bright fancies and sweet thoughts, to which he, a!:ia, was quite a stronger. " I iieg your pardon,"sho said, gestly ; " 1 was thinking of something Lady Moutf.ilcon told mo. What were you saying '!" " i asked you if you intended goiug to the ami bull given by the ambassadress, after t.ie draVr'ingroom. I should like to go if you do not think it will fatigue you ; you will uicec very uiuc people there." A sudden idea occurred to her ; perhaps ho would be there, and oho would have an opportunity of talking to him. She looked ui bar husband with more tenderness a;ul auxioty ill her facu than lie hud ever seen in her f;ieo before. " I should liLn to go very much," ; "ami you—you will go, ot courso?" Lie raised tho soft white band to his lips. " I am only too happy to go with you every where," he said. JLtut tiio far-oli IoC'L was in her ejc3 again, and she hardly heard the words. She slept little that night ; her \vi;olc eoul was engrossed in that thought; would she ace him <>n the morrow ? and would he speck to her of the olden time not so far distant, when they had been so much to e:ic'a other '! It seemed to her that morning would never conn. It was not for the presentation to the Queen she longed so eagerly, but to sec Lord C'arevv, and to rind out whether bo remembered her, or whether he loved the woman who held tho place she would have died to hold. CHAPTER XXIX. TII 15 RIV AI, yUEK .V 8. The ninth of May ! Never until the hour of her duatti did Juanita, Duchcs3 of Orinoud, forget that day. It was bright, warm, and sunny ; there was a faint perfume of early lilacs and laburnums in the air ; the birds snug in the trejs ; ail nature was happy and smiling. Perhaps the fairest picture on that May day was to be neon in the luxurious dressingroom of the young Duchess of Onnoml. Her toilet was cjtnplctcil, and she stood before her mirror to take a linal glance at her beautiful self. There are some styles of beauty to which Court dress is especially becoming. The Duo!iC33 of Orniond hai never looked so lovely as in hers ; the train, the magnificent dress, tho waving plumes, the superb jewels that would havo made some ladies look overdressed, gave her tho appearance of a stalely young queen. A tuple ol content rippled over her perfect lips as eho looked loug and earnestly in the mirror. "It is not for myself that I value my beauty," she said, " but for him, because it has pleased him once, and it may win some little liking for me again." Then sin; entered her carriage, and with a beating heart drove oil to St. James'. The Duchess of Ormond, iu encouraging such thoughts, was simply playing with lire —playing with edged tools ; but aho did not see tho danger ; Hhe never even thought of it. Sho blinded heradf to tho faot that danger existed ; she would not remember it. It Hoeincl very simple to her; she had loved him once with all her heart; circumstances they could not control had parted them ; and she was pleased to see him again ; pleased to renew an old friendship with him ; pleased to find en interest in her life when she had thought all interest had died out for ever. She did not go beyond this; if sho had kuown what was in her own heart, she would have been more frightened than at meeting an assassin in tho dark. Lady Montfalcon smiled with delight when she saw the beautiful debutant'. " You are not nervous, i see," she said. " Nervous ! No ; why should Ibe ?" " Some ladies are. 1 could tell you moat absurd stories, but there is really no room for talking ; I thought there would bo a crush." The Duchess of Ormond was very much amused iu watching the fair faces, tho brilliant toilets, the costly jewels. "1 did not think there wore so many beautiful women in England," she said to Lady Montfalcon. " That is an error people often fall into," replied her ladyship. " I have been at most of the European Courts, but I have never seen anything to compare with the fair, calm, tranquil loveliness of my countrywomen." Tho Duchess was attracted by two ladies— one tall and stately, no longer young, but charming by the grandeur of her face and the erect carriage of a still beautiful figure. She was magnificently dressed ; her robe was of violet velvet, trimmed with goldon fringe, and she wore some fine diamonds. She was talking eagerly to a maguilicentlybeautiful girl by her aide. It was this girl who rivetted the attention of the Duchoas. She had never even dreamed of anything one-half so beautiful. She was fair as a lily, with the dainty bloom of a wild rose on her lovely face; her eyes were violet, and in their sweet, calm depths lay treasures of poetry and love ; her golden hair fell in rich masses on a neck and shoulders white as ivory. She was exquisitely dressed in white satin, and she wore diamonds hardly inferior to her own,

"How wonderfully beautiful?" said the Duchess to herself. " Who is she, I wonder ?" She watched the charming play of those perfect features as the lady talked to her companion ; the wondrous grace and harmony of each movement; the angelic expression on the peerless face. "Lady Montfalcon," she asked, suddenly, " who are those two ladie3 near the large window? One is dressed in violet velvet, the other in white satin." Lady Montfslcon looked round ; then an expression of great interest came over her face. " The elder one is Lady Carew," she replied. " The younger one Lady Adelaide, the wife of Lord Carew. I was speaking to you of her yesterday. That is your rival, my dear Duchess. I prophesy that you will be rival queens thio season." Again tho baautilul Spanish face grew pale, even to the lipa. "That ia my rival," she said, slowly. " she is perfectly lovely." " Yes,' , was the careless reply. "But her style and yours are no different that you can ntl'ord to praise her." The Duehosa could not take her attention from tho two who so completely engrossed her—Allan's mother and his wife. as aho looked on that most fair face, some hope, ahu hardly knew of what, died out of her heart. "How he nut at love her !" she thought; "aud loviug her, how completely ho must have forgotten me. I cannot outshine hor —she is peerless. How he mu3t love her !" Lady M jni falcon wondered how it was thai; her beautiful pMeyec seemed all at oncu to lose her spirit aud energy —ail her interest in the scene was over. " In—is Lord Cirew here V she asked, p:. jsently. "I do not know: I should imagine so. Uulesu I am mistaken, ia hia family there is some Court oflicc horeditery ; he will be in attendance upon Her Majesty." No more was needed; it was quite sufficient. Even if sha should nut get an opportunity to talk to hioj, ho could sco her -joo her, too, in all her magnificence. Her face flushed, her eyes brightened. Lady M'Hilfalcou looked at her in admiration. Then it was time to enter the presence-chamber, aud every other consideration died away. Tho gorgeous ceremonial was over at last, ani, crowned with honours, flushed with success, ths beautiful Duohesa returned to Ormond House. There had not been such a drawingroom for years. Two new beauties —one thu qiucn of blondes, the other the most magnificent of brunettes. People were all talking about them; there was but one sentiment, and that wa3 universal admiration. " You will bo at tho ball given to-night by the ambassadress at Sackvillo House?" were Lady Alontfal'jou'a parting words to the Duchess, " Yea, we are going," replied the triumphant beauty. "Then we shall see the rival queens side by side, for the Carows, I hear, are going, too, An rcvolr." She little thought how all-important were those few idle words. To-night, then moat certainly, she should see Lord Carew—perhaps dance with him. She should be able to toll whether he lovod this fair, angelic wife better than he had loved her. Juauita received her husband's courtly compliments with charming gracu and amiability. Alas and ala 3 ! that there wa3 no one to whisper a warning to her—to tell her sho was drifting on to a path that, though strewn with flowers, has but one ending. No one to bid hor pause, for the Evil Oue had laid a snare for her soul, and only by the greatest skill could she evade it. Sho dismissed her husband with a few kindly words. "I am very tired," sho said, "and must rest a few hours ; we ara sure to ba late at tho ball to-night." The Duke obediently left her, thinking to himself that he was certainly the most fortunate of men to have won for himself a wife ao bnautifal, while she closed her eyes only to think the better of her rival's fair face, and to woader how much Lord Carew loved her. CHAPTER XXX. "WHAT A MAGNIFICENT WOMAN"!" One c;ui picture a stately damask rose in tho niiilat ot pal?, pure lilies ; a grand passion flower between snowdrops ; a superb carnation with white heath. Just such a contrast did the Duchess of Ormond present to tho blonde English ladies at tho ball at backville House, Her dress was magnificent. Shu wore such a profusion of diamonds that when ilia moved it was us though a sheet of iliino played over her. The magnificent. Spanish face, with its superb j;Iow of colour, tiio dark radiant eyes, thu dark hair crowned with diamonds, drew all eyes. " Who is she ''." " What a magnificent woman !" " Dow superbly beautiful 1" were tao exclamations ou ail sides. " Have you seen the Duche3D of Ormond ? Kho is peerless," said cue gentleman to another. The Duke was gratified : ho was too proud to allow it, but those who understood him knew what the slight smile hovering round his lipa meant. It was no surprise to him th.-it his beautiful wife should meet with such an ovation ; he had anticipated it. Ho knew that in all England there was no other woman so peerlessly lovely ; he was gratified that his taste should bo appreciated. His wife met with the honour and homage he considered duo to her. The Duke and Duchess had arrived early— that was ono of his Grace's peculiarities ; he detected the affectation of boiug late—so that when Lord iJarcw, with his party, arrived, people were all ready fora new sensation, and thoy found it in the loveliness of Lady Adelaide. Did she eclipse the Duchess? Does a lily eclipse a rose ? Is a nnowdro|j more beautiful than a brilliantly - tinted carnation ? These were each pcrfccD in their different styles. " We have something worth looking at tonight," said Count de Lome, the greatest dandy and moat fastidious man in London. "1 have never seen two women so perfectly beautiful, yet so entirely different." And his verdict was re-echoed by the whole assembly. The dark eyes of tho Duchess of Ormond, that seemed to rain light and graoiouancsH, were often and wistfully turned to the entrance of the room. She was there on purpose to see Lord Carew, and as yet there was no sign, of him. She had rejoiced in her beauty aud in her magnificence, in the homage that floated round her, in the adulations that were offered to her; but she had only rejoiced in it because Lord Carew wan to see it, because he would see in losing her what he had lost, that he should sou how others had appreciated her. So she eaid to herself; but in her heart-there was a terrible sensa of guilty joy, a thrill of something that should have bade her beware. She was dancing "The Lancers" with the Prince of Gladstoin. People crowded round to watch her. With the beauty of her face, its marvellous colouring, the radiance of her dark eyes, tho splendour of her dress, the shining of her jewels, she w/»o something wonderful to see. The Prince was enchanted ; he had never beheld a woman more gracious or more fair. He overwhelmed her with compliments, and never remarked that when she turned her graceful head from him it was to watch the entrance and see if Lord Carew had arrived. In the midst of one of his most flattering speeches she stopped suddenly, and for ono minute the brilliant colour had faded from her face. Lord Carew was there ; he had arrived, and with him was the blonde, lovely woman he had married. J U3t for one moment Her Grace of Ormond lost her high spirits ; sho faltered in her speech ; her lips quivered ; a sudden deadly pang seemed almost to stop her heart from beating; then she was herself again. She seemed suddenly to grow taller, more beautiful ; a careless smile played round her li"p3. She knew that Lord Carew was looking at her ; their eyes had met. " You are tired," said the Prince, noticing that the lady leaned more heavily on his arm. " I am sorry to confess it," she said, with a smile; "but I should enjoy a few minutes' rest." He led her to a pretty seat, half-hidden by groups of red and white camellias, and sat down by her sido ; but that was not what she intended. She had given up dancing in order that Lord Carew might join her. She talked and laughed ; etiquette obliged her to entertain the Prince, however much she might wish him away. The ambassadress came to her relief, and the beautiful. Duchess thanked her in her heart. Then sho sat perfectly still, the gorgeous fan she carried was open, and the soft plumage lay against her white neck. The glossy loavee, the scarlet and white flowers of the camellias, formed a picturesque background. She looked more like a grand picture by Raphael than a living reality. Outwardly she eat perfectly still, perfectly

unconcerned, the white plumage hardly stirring with hor breath ; but her li eart was beat*. ing, her pulse throbbing,every nerve thrilling, {or Lord Carew was coming ; without seeing him she knew it; she felt the magic of his ' presence, the spell that no one elae in this world could throw round her. It was no surprise to her when a dark shadow stood before her, and looking up, she saw the face of the only man she had ever lared for. "Nita!" he cried, and something in his voice touched her heart, as it had not been touched for many a long day. " I beg yonr pardon," he continued, his face flushing; "the old, familiar name slipped from me unawares." " I never wish to hear any other from your lips," she said, and there- was that in her beautiful face, in her passionate eyes, that; should have bade him bewaro; but he did. not notice it, " I did not think of mesting]you here," he said. She drew aside her magnificent drees to make a place for him. " Why not '!" she asked. "I do not know. I heard you were in London, and I often wondered where and how we should meet again." You have thought of me then You have remembered !" she cried, and this time the light in her eyes struck him. His face flushed slightly. Lord Carew did not love his wife ; he had married her in what seemed to him compliance with the most unjust, capricious will ever made. Still it was his father's will, and he could nob absolutely refuse to comply with it. He had married a woman he did not love, but he respected and esteemed her ; he had no idea of playing her falee ; he was the very aoul of honour. While she lived under his roof and bore the name of his wife, all honour and respect .should bo paid to her. He would not, could not bo di3loyal to her. So when those love-lit eyes were raised to his, and the musical voice grew sweeter for speaking to him, Lord Carew involuntarily thought of his wife. She was so pleased to see him, so delighted to be with him again. " Do you kuo.v my husband V she asked, and Lord Cftrew said : " No, nob well." "I must mate you great friends," she said ; "he was speaking of you yesterday," "I shall be very happy," replied Allan; yet as he spoke there passed through his mind some of those grand old words that pray we may be shielded from temptation, lest it; prove too strong for us. " Hark !" said the Duchess. "Why, that is our favourite, the old 'Love Waltz." , And the dark eyes spoke so plainly, he could net refuse what they asked. " Will you dance with me 1" he said ; and without one word of reply, the Duchess laid her pretty little white hand on his arm, and. they went away together. CHAPTER XXXI. CXDER TIM OLD SPELL. An hour later, and Captain Randolph had made his way to Lady Adelaide. " Can you find one dance for me ? I have not the presumption to ask for more than one. Is Lord Carew here ?" " Yea, he is here," she replied, and the question seemed to give her some vague pain. " You do not ask me how L found you in this crowded room," he continued. "You looked for me, I suppose," ehe replied, "ISO, that was useless ; but I looked to see who it was that everyone was admiring so much and talking about: 1 felt sure it would be you." Lady Adelaide only laughed at his flattery, she was beginning to understand him so weD. " Do you know that people are saying that you and the Duchess of Ormond are the queens of the day ? Now, I have seen the Duchess, bat she does not take the palm from you." " The Duchess of Ormond !" repeated Lady Carew, slowly ; " why who is she V "My dear Lady Adelaide," cried Beauty Randolph, " what have you been doing sinse you came to the ball ?" " Dancing," ohe replied, "and talking. I have met some very nice people here." " And you really mean to tell me that you have not seen the Duchess of Ormond, or that you have not liatcaed to people raving about her ?" " I never liuten to raving. And I hare been so entirely with my own friends. Who is she, Captain Randolph ?'' " The rage just at present. There is the Duke, talking to Lady Carew." She looked, and saw a handsome, elderly gentleman of stately prc3er.c3 ; he wore several orders, and looked a thorough aristocrat. " He is old," raid Lidy Adelaide. "And his wife is young; that does not matter in the world of fashion, Lady Adelaide. Ah ! there is the Duchess, dancing with your husband." Lady Adelaide looked in the direction he indicated; for one minute the room seamed to whirl round—flowers, light?, wore all ono confused mass—for in the magnificent lady, covered with gems, sho recognised the original of the portrait, "Loved and Lost." So they had met again ; her husband who did not love her and the woman who had once been so dear to him. Lady Adelaide caught her breath, with a sigh that was like a sob. Then she asked : "Do you know who the Duchess was— what wiu her name before she was married ?" " Juatiita, Countess deSilvara," he replied. " She comes of a noble old family in Castile." There could be no mistake ; she remembered the name on the portrait" Nita"— there was no error; that was the woman her husband loved, and they had met again. What would follow 1 " Will you excuse me V she said to Captain Randolph. "I am tired ; I would rather rest than dance." "Certainly," said Beauty. " I will gladly excuses you it yon will let ma sit by you. 1 would far rather t?lk than dance." She wanted to sit; and watch her beautiful rival, to note every change on that beautiful face, to watch the graceful figure, the bright, gay smile, to see how fair w»a this woman whom her husband had loved. Beauty was in one of his most eloquent vein 3, and he wondered why Lady Adelaide was so preoccupied, why that dreamy, far-oil' look was in her beautiful eyes, what she was thinking of that she did not smile and scold him, no matter how absurd his compliments were. Lady Adelaide was watching her rival, and the husband who lingered by that rival's side. For Lord Carew was beginning in some measure to fall under the influence of the old spell. When ho had finished the waltz, the duchess professed a great longing for an ice. He escorted her to the supper-room, and after that she would not release him. "I hope," sho said, "that we shall see a great deal of each other. You must introduce me to your wife this evening. We shall be friends, I am sure—great friends ; and you, Lord Carew, you will come out and visit us, sometimes ?" He could only answer " Yes," and then the Duke of Ormond joined them. He knew little of Lord Carew ; but his beautiful wife, smiling her brightest on him, could do any. thing on earth she wished with him. " Gervaie," she said, " Lord Carew ie one of my oldest friends. I want you to know him.well, and learn to like him for my sake." " I shall be only too pleased," said the unsuspicious husband. "I must ask you, Lord Carew, to allow me to offer my congratulations. I had the pleasure, half an hour since, of an introduction to one of the most beautiful and amiable ladies I over had the honor of meeting — Lady Adelaide Carew." The Duchess, for one moment, felt the greatest inclination to stay the urbane and stately speaker, then she turned to him with one of her most fascinating smiles. "I am jealous; I have just been telling Lord Carew how much I wish to see his wife." " If you are not engaged," said the Duke, "It will give the Duchess and myself great pleasure to see you on Friday. The Prince of Gladstein will dine with us." Lord Carew bowed, and as he looked at the stately gentleman, so unsuspicious of all evil, the thought passed through his mind that the man who could injure one so noble, 80 trusting, would indeed be a villain ; then he laughed at himself for the thought. The Duke left them, and still his beautiful wife continued to keep Allan by her side. Once he thought of Adelaide, and wondered if she wa3 well amused. The dark eyes seemed to note the very thought. " You are silent," she said ; " I shall begin to tiiink that I have lost all conversational powers." Then she exerted herself to be so charming, so fascinating, so witty, that he forgot everything in listening to her, and all thio time his wife was watching him ; no matter whether she danced, talked, smiled, or sat silent, her eyes were always seeing him. When the Duchess had detained him or long as she thought prudent, aha rosei

"Shall we find Lady Adelaide Carew BOW she said. "lam so desirous of an introduction." . _ ~ . . They found her with Captain Randolph in One of the pretty anterooms. She was sitting with a wearied look ou her lovely face. Then they stood face to faco-theae two women who were each struggling for the ove of the same .nan. They looked at each other aa though measuring strength. Ihe Duchess superb, magnificent, a K low of light and colour, the tire in her eyes bright as the tiro of her jewels; Lady Adelaide, lovely in her serene calm. Lord Carew murmured some words or introduction, and the Puchees held out her hand, with a smile that was irresistible. "I am so pleased to know you, Lady Adelaide, ,, she said, and her promt eye* took in every detail of that pure, calm loneliness. She threw sufficient warmth into her words end address to have deceived anyone ; but she did not deceive the lady whose husband did not love her. Lady Adelaide, looking iuto the depths of those dark eyes, read there envy, malic* , , and hate. " Lady Adelaide was just complaining of feeling tired," said Beauty. "You have perhaps been dancing too much," said the Duchess, with superb patronage; and Captain Randolph detected the patronage, and estimated bur accordingly. [To bo continued.l