have desired, and if she had failed, was it her fault? was it not rather
the fault of the world and the generation in which her life had been
cast?

She had struggled, and she had failed; henceforth let her life be as fate
should ordain for her.

"What is it you wish me to say, Lady Kynaston?" she asked, turning
suddenly towards Maurice's mother.

"My dear child, I only want you to say that if John asks you again to be
his wife, you will consent, or say only, if you like it better, that you
will agree to meet him here. There shall be nothing unpleasant for you; I
will write to him and settle everything."

"If you write to him, I will come," she said, briefly, and then Lady
Kynaston came up to her and kissed her, taking her hands within her own,
and drawing her to her with motherly tenderness. "My dear, everybody will
think well of you for this."

And the words ran so nearly in the current of her own bitter thoughts
that Vera laughed, shortly and disdainfully, a low laugh of scorn at the
world, whose mandates she was prepared to obey, even though she despised
herself for doing so.

"You will be glad by-and-by that you were so sensible and so reasonable,"
said Lady Kynaston.

"Yes--I dare say I shall be glad by-and-by; and now I am going, dear Lady
Kynaston; I have a hansom waiting all this time, and Mrs. Hazeldine will