fund, came to her help and told her that whatever I had done was for her
own good. So the rare smile, which was one of her greatest charms, came
to her face, like the diaphanous glow of a good spirit, rested for a
moment on her lips, mounted to her eyes and faded slowly away, as though
it would linger a moment to ask my forgiveness.

"I am glad I witnessed the interview," said I, drawing her hand through
my arm to reassure her, "for notwithstanding all that happened, I now
feel sure you are to be trusted."

"But am I?" she asked, showing a self-doubt which I wished to remove.

"Yes, you will have no greater trial at court than the one through which
you have just passed. You have combated successfully not only your own
love, but the love of the man you love."

"Ah, Baron Ned, don't!" she exclaimed, in mild reproach, shrinking from
the thought I had just uttered so plainly.

"It is always well to look misfortunes squarely in the face," I answered.
"It helps one to despise them. The thing we call bad luck can't endure a
steady gaze."

"It will help me in one respect,--this--this--what has happened," she
returned, hanging her head.

"In what way?" I asked, catching a foreboding hint of her meaning.

She hesitated, but, after an effort, brought herself to say, "I shall
never again have to combat my own heart, and surely that is the hardest