down, and seating herself beside him, watched over a sleep which, if it
had come suddenly on him, was not the less unquiet and disturbed. At
length he muttered, "Yes, Lucilla, yes; I tell you, you are avenged. I
have not forgotten you! I have not forgotten that I betrayed, deserted
you! but was it my fault? No, no! Yet I have not the less sought to
forget it. These poor excesses,--these chilling gaieties,--were they not
incurred for you?--and now you come--you--ah, no--spare me!"

Shocked and startled, Constance drew back. Here was a new key to
Godolphin's present life, his dissipation, his thirst for pleasure. Had
he indeed sought to lull the stings of conscience? And she, instead of
soothing, of reconciling him to the past, had she left him alone to
struggle with bitter and unresting thoughts, and to contrast the devotion
of the one lost with the indifference of the one gained? She crept back
to her own chamber, to commune with her heart and be still.

"My dear Percy," said she, the next day, when he carelessly sauntered
into her boudoir before he rode out, "I have a favour to ask of you."

"Who ever denied a favour to Lady Erpingham?"

"Not you, certainly; but my favour is a great one."

"It is granted."

"Let us pass the summer in ----shire."

Godolphin's brow clouded.

"At Wendover Castle?" said he, after a pause.