his eyes. Lady Henry took up her strongest glasses from the table and
put them on. But it was pitifully evident that even so equipped she saw
but little, and that her strong nature fretted perpetually against the
physical infirmity that teased it. Nevertheless, some unspoken
communication passed between them, and Sir Wilfrid knew that he had
effectually held up a protecting hand for Lady Rose.

"Well, let me tell you my tale first," he said; and gave the little
reminiscence in full. When he described the child, Lady Henry
listened eagerly.

"Hm," she said, when he came to an end; "she was jealous, you say, of
her mother's attentions to you? She watched you, and in the end she took
possession of you? Much the same creature, apparently, then as now."

"No moral, please, till the tale is done," said Sir Wilfrid, smiling.
"It's your turn."

Lady Henry's face grew sombre.

[Illustration: "LADY HENRY LISTENED EAGERLY"]

"All very well," she said. "What did your tale matter to you? As for
mine--"

The substance of hers was as follows, put into chronological order:

Lady Rose had lived some ten years after Dalrymple's death. That time
she passed in great poverty in some _chambres garnies_ at Bruges, with
her little girl and an old Madame Le Breton, the maid, housekeeper, and