a single member of her husband's party. With a kind look--but a look so
superior, so queen-like, so free from the petty and coquettish
condescension of the sex, that the gay lord wondered from that hour how he
could ever have dreamed of Constance as of certain other ladies--she
stretched her hand to him.

"We are friends, Lord Dartington?--and now we know each other, we shall be
so always."

Lord Dartington bowed confusedly over the beautiful hand he touched; and
Constance, walking into the drawing-room, sent for Lord Erpingham on
business--Dartington took his leave.

CHAPTER XXIV.

THE MARRIED STATE OF CONSTANCE.

Constance, Countess of Erpingham, was young, rich, lovely as a dream,
worshipped as a goddess. Was she happy? and was her whole heart occupied
with the trifles that surrounded her?

Deep within her memory was buried one fatal image that she could not
exorcise. The reproaching and mournful countenance of Godolphin rose
before her at all times and seasons. The charm of his presence no other
human being could renew. His eloquent and noble features, living, and
glorious with genius and with passion, his sweet deep voice, his
conversation, so rich with mind and knowledge, and the subtle delicacy
with which he applied its graces to some sentiment dedicated to her,
(delicious flattery, of all flatteries the most attractive to a sensitive
and intellectual woman!)--these occurred to her again and again, and