“Who is the lady who has just left you?” asked the Earl as he greeted his cousin; and he glanced over his shoulder at the white domino disappearing in the throng.

Susannah found in this her cue.

“Miss Boyle,” she said. “And it is about her that I wish to speak to you.”

Lord Lyndwood stepped into the alcove; Marius had departed; they, although on the edge of a great crowd, enveloped by music and laughter, were alone and unnoticed.

“Did you not guess the subject on which I desired to see you?” questioned Susannah.

The Earl looked at her smilingly, and flung himself into a chair.

“Gad, but I’m tired,” he said. “Well, I suppose you have seen the paragraph in the Gazette?”

Miss Chressham gave him a keen glance from behind her mask.

“Yes,” she answered. “And Miss Boyle has seen it.”

The faintest tinge of colour came into my lord’s weary face.

“Also her fire-eating cousin; her father, too, I dare swear, and half London”—he kept his shadowed grey eyes on her face.

“Well, are you Miss Boyle’s deputy, Susannah?”

“Yes,” said Miss Chressham, sitting erect, with a hand clasped on a swiftly heaving breast. “I have been trying to gain a word with you since yesterday afternoon, when she, Selina, came to me.”

Lord Lyndwood interrupted.

“With what object?” he asked, and his foot lightly beat time to the measure of the minuet.

“Can you not imagine?” Susannah paused a moment striving with distaste for her task. “I am her close friend—she hath confided in me——”

“Ah, what?”

Miss Chressham lowered her agitated voice.

“That the Gazette gives only the truth.”

The Earl shrugged his shoulders.

“A rarity! truth in the Gazette! no one will suspect it, my dear; I think Miss Boyle frightens herself for nothing.”

His languid eyes roved over the ballroom, his indolent handsome profile was towards his cousin, who flushed unseen under her mask, accusing him of lack of frankness and friendliness in thus dealing with her.

“You resent my interference,” she said in a low tone, “and, of a surety, I put myself in an ungracious position, but do we not know each other well enough—and, and like each other well enough, Rose, for me to venture to speak to you as Miss Boyle’s mouthpiece?”

“You do us both an honour,” answered my lord. “Only, I cannot see that the affair calls for comment from anyone, even from Miss Boyle;” he slightly raised his fair brows. “Surely these things are better ignored?”

And still he looked at the ballroom, and still Miss Chressham had the sense that he was not with her, not moved or even interested by what she said; yet she must be mistaken; he was interested, vitally, and his seeming indifference was but the reserve he chose to show her, so she told herself; but either way, this manner of his made it difficult for her.

“I think you take it too lightly, Rose,” she said. “If you could have seen Miss Boyle’s distress.”

Again that faint flush in his averted face; he tapped his mask against his knee.

“What was her actual message to me?”

“There was none, she is going away if she can; she trusted me to see you, her wish was to prevent a meeting between you and Sir Francis.”

“I saw him last night.”

“Last night? On this matter?”

The Earl looked at his cousin now; inscrutable still, however, the veiled expression of his beautiful eyes.

“Yes, he came to the St. James’s to throw up his appointment because of this; he is a foolish romantical fellow; perhaps he wished to force a duel on me, I cannot tell.”

Miss Chressham was silent. It seemed curious that Rose could speak in this fashion; folly, romance, and fire, were they all dead in his breast? He spoke of Sir Francis as an old man might of a boy, and he not much more than five-and-twenty himself.

“And for Miss Boyle’s sake you refrained?” she asked.

“Why should I meet him?” he answered evasively. “I suppose she will marry him now; I think he is a good fellow.”

“Oh, Rose!” cried Susannah impatiently. “Why do you seek to put me off? She told me what you had written to her—you know, as I know, that she will never marry him.”

My lord was silent, and not all her sharp glances could discern from his immobile face what was passing in his mind.

“Sir Francis is impetuous,” she continued; “but his situation is maddening, and he thinks, hopes, the thing is a lie.”

The Earl smiled, half turning his face to her.

“Sir Francis stands excused, by me at least, though he flung back my favour at me like a fool, and so has given me some trouble for nothing.”

Miss Chressham twisted her fine fingers together.

“We have not come to discuss Sir Francis. I think of Selina, and of the fact that she asked me to help her.”

“How help her?” asked my lord slowly. “Have you not said Sir Francis believes the paragraph a lie?”

“There are those believe it true.”

Rose Lyndwood shrugged his shoulders.

“There is not a lady of fashion in town, nor any who has had the name of a belle, who has not been flicked at in the Gazette.”

Susannah answered impatiently.

“Oh, Rose, because ye are jaded with pamphleteers, and it is nothing to you what any say of you—cannot you understand her feelings?”

My lord pressed his handkerchief to his lips.

“I think you both, like women, make too much of it,” he answered lightly, with a steady glance under drooping lids.

Miss Chressham felt herself colour angrily.

“Then I think you must take a woman’s point of view of this matter, too, Rose; remember that she can blame you that the affair ever became public.”

“In what way?” he asked.

Susannah, goaded into direct speech by what seemed to her his wilful slowness, answered with the blood still hotter in her cheeks.

“In this way: firstly, that you wrote to her at all; secondly, that you lost her letter.”

The minuet had come to an end, the ballroom was emptying of all but a few couples who promenaded the shining floor; the tall distant windows were open on to gardens where the moonlight revealed the forms of trees and the lamps swung in their branches lit the revellers beneath; the Earl looked down the room, and made no answer to Miss Chressham’s accusation, but she had a swift feeling that he was moved now; touched to the heart; as they had no longer music or laughter or the tumult of the throng to cover their speech, she lowered her voice and spoke in an added embarrassment.

“Ah, Rose, could you not have kept a better guard on it?”

He answered quietly.

“I’ faith, it was there in the desk when I looked again, after Sir Francis spoke to me; I know not whom to accuse.”

Susannah pulled off her mask, as if the fret of it was beyond bearing, and gave him a glowing look.

The Earl paled a little under her gaze.

“Can it be possible you do not guess?”

“A servant, of course.”

Miss Chressham rose.

“The Countess, of course; she stole the letter, and she wrote that paragraph; it is horrible to even mention it, but it is true and best that you should know it.”

He drew his breath sharply between his parted lips.

“By Gad!” he said softly. “So you think so? Well, I thought of it.” He laughed, to Susannah’s surprise, almost in an amused manner: “But I could not credit that my lady had enough affection or enough dislike to me to be at the trouble——”

“I am sorry that you should smile,” she answered hotly, “to think what this woman you have married has brought on those you care for.”

He straightened himself, and flung back the pink domino.

“What do you—what does she—want me to do?”

Susannah could not say; it di............