his own court?"

"Intrigue! I think you wrong Lord L'Estrange; he but represented what he
believed to be the truth, in defence of a ruined exile."

"And you will not tell me where that exile is, or if his daughter still
lives?"

"My dear marchesa, I have called you friend, therefore I will not aid
L'Estrange to injure you or yours. But I call L'Estrange a friend also;
and I cannot violate the trust that--" Audley stopped short, and bit his
lip. "You understand me," he resumed, with a more genial smile than
usual; and he took his leave.

The Italian's brows met as her eye followed him; then, as she too rose,
that eye encountered Randal's.

"That young man has the eye of an Italian," said the marchesa to herself,
as she passed by him into the ballroom.




CHAPTER XIII.

Leonard and Helen settled themselves in two little chambers in a small
lane. The neighbourhood was dull enough, the accommodation humble; but
their landlady had a smile. That was the reason, perhaps, why Helen
chose the lodgings: a smile is not always found on the face of a landlady
when the lodger is poor. And out of their windows they caught sight of a