better. If Bella Blackall goes on a singing at the Hempire, you mark
my words, she'll sing herself into 'eaven."




CHAPTER VII.


A week went by slowly: the hours crept like snails, and yet the days
were surely slipping away, bringing nearer and nearer the one which
was to give Sir John Chetwynd his second wife.

He had hardly seen Lady Ethel since the evening when she had yielded
a coy assent to his not (it must be confessed) very amorous request
that she would fix an early day for their nuptials, and his state of
mind was anything but an enviable one. If ever a man was torn two
ways, halting between prudence and worldly consideration on one side
and the force and power of a love which he had honestly believed was
laid for ever in its grave, that man was Sir John. The idea of seeing
Bella again did not occur to him for some days, but when it fastened
on him he could not shake it off. It was stronger than himself. He
excused his temptation by the condition of her health, though in his
heart of hearts he knew well enough that this was not sufficiently
critical to serve for a reason.

Twice he seized his hat with the intention of going to her, then laid
it aside, angry and disgusted with his own weakness.

His profession no longer occupied his thoughts to the exclusion of