him, where women are concerned."

"So he does, often," was his quiet reply.

"I hate the fellow! He thinks so much of himself, with his curled hair
and shining teeth, and his white skin; and he's as heartless as an owl.
What was that hushed-up business about Miss Charteris?"

"Who's to know? Levison slipped out of the escapade like an eel, and
the woman protested that he was more sinned against than sinning.
Three-fourths of the world believed them."

"And she went abroad and died; and Levison here he comes! And Mount
Severn's daughter with him."

They were approaching at that moment, Francis Levison and Lady Isabel.
He was expressing his regret at the untoward accident of the cross for
the tenth time that night. "I feel that it can never be atoned for,"
whispered he; "that the heartfelt homage of my whole life would not be
sufficient compensation."

He spoke in a tone of thrilling gentleness, gratifying to the ear but
dangerous to the heart. Lady Isabel glanced up and caught his eyes
gazing upon her with the deepest tenderness--a language hers had never
yet encountered. A vivid blush again arose to her cheek, her eyelids
fell, and her timid words died away in silence.

"Take care, take care, my young Lady Isabel," murmured the Oxonian under
his breath, as they passed him, "that man is as false as he is fair."