"Leonard Fairfield," cried Violante, who had conquered, or felt ashamed,
of her short-lived anger.

"Fairfield!" repeated Lady Lansmere. "I thought, Harley, you said the
name was Oran."

"He has assumed the latter name. He is the son of Mark Fairfield, who
married an Avenel. Did you recognize no family likeness?--none in those
eyes, Mother?" said Harley, sinking his voice into a whisper.

"No;" answered the countess, falteringly.

Harley, observing that Violante was now speaking to Helen about Leonard,
and that neither was listening to him, resumed in the same low tone, "And
his mother--Nora's sister--shrank from seeing me! That is the reason why
I wished you not to call. She has not told the young man why she shrank
from seeing me; nor have I explained it to him as yet. Perhaps I never
shall."

"Indeed, dearest Harley," said the countess, with great gentleness,
"I wish you too much to forget the folly--well, I will not say that word
--the sorrows of your boyhood, not to hope that you will rather strive
against such painful memories than renew them by unnecessary confidence
to any one; least of all to the relation of--"

"Enough! don't name her; the very name pains me. And as to confidence,
there are but two persons in the world to whom I ever bare the old
wounds,--yourself and Egerton. Let this pass. Ha!--a ring at the bell--
that is he!"