"She stands in my place, she bears my name; on her finger shines the ring that ought to shine on mine; she has taken the love I believed to be mine for life," said Leone to herself; "how shall I bear it?"

As she stood among the brilliant crowd, a strong impulse came over her to go up to Lady Marion and say:

"Stand aside; this is my place. Men cannot undo the laws of G.o.d. Stand aside, give me my place."

Words were still burning from her heart to her lips when she saw Lady Marion holding out her hand in kindliest greeting to her; all the bitter thoughts melted at once in the sunshine of that fair presence; her own hand sought Lady Marion's, and the two women, whose lives had crossed each other's so strangely, stood for one moment hand locked in hand, their eyes fixed on each other.

Lady Marion spoke first, and she seemed to draw her breath with a deep sigh as she did so.

"I am so pleased to see you, Madame Vanira," she said, eagerly. "We must find time for a long talk this evening."

With a bow Leone pa.s.sed on to the ballroom, where the first person to meet her was Lord Chandos; he looked at the bouquet she carried.

"You have honored my flowers, madame," he said. "I remember your love for lilies-of-the-valley. You will put my name down for the first waltz?"

There was a world of reproach in the dark eyes she raised to his.

"No, I will not waltz with you," she replied, gently.

"Why not?" he asked, bending his handsome head over her.

"I might make false excuses, but I prefer telling you the truth," she answered; "I will not trust myself."

And when Leone took that tone Lord Chandos knew that further words were useless.

"You will dance a quadrille, at least?" he asked, and she consented.

Then he offered her his arm and they walked through the room together.

The ballroom at Stoneland House was a large and magnificent apartment; many people thought it the finest ballroom in London; the immense dome was brilliantly lighted, the walls were superbly painted, and tier after tier of superb blossoms filled the room with exquisite color and exquisite perfume.

The ballroom opened into a large conservatory, which led to a fernery, and from the fernery one pa.s.sed to the grounds. Leone felt embarra.s.sed; she longed to praise the beautiful place, yet it seemed to her if she did so it would be like reminding him that it ought to have been hers; while he, on the contrary, did not dare to draw her attention to picture, flower, or statue, lest she should remember that they had been taken from her by a great and grievous wrong.

"We are not very cheerful friends," he said, trying to arouse himself.

"I begin to think we have done wrong in ever thinking of friendship at all," she replied.

Lord Chandos turned to her suddenly.

"Leone," he said, "you have quite made a conquest of my mother--you do not know how she admires you!"

A bitter smile curled the beautiful lips.

"It is too late," she said sadly. "It does not seem very long since she refused even to tolerate me."

Lord Chandos continued:

"She was speaking about you yesterday, and she was quite animated about you; she praised you more than I have ever heard her praise any one."

"I ought to feel flattered," said Leone; "but it strikes me as being something wonderful that Lady Lanswell did not find out any good qualities in me before."

"My mother saw you through a haze of hatred," said Lord Chandos; "now she will learn to appreciate you."

A sudden glow of fire flashed in those superb eyes.

"I wonder," she said, "if I shall ever be able to pay my debt to Lady Lanswell, and in what shape I shall pay it?"

He shuddered as he gazed in the beautiful face.

"Try to forget that, Leone," he said; "I never like to remember that you threatened my mother."

"We will not discuss it," she said, coldly; "we shall never agree."

Then the band began to play the quadrilles. Lord Chandos led Leone to her place. He thought to himself what cruel wrong it was on the part of fate, that the woman whom he had believed to be his wedded wife should be standing there, a visitor in the house which ought to have been her home.

CHAPTER XLVII.

THE COMPACT OF FRIENDSHIP.

The one set of quadrilles had been danced, and Leone said to herself that there was more pain than pleasure in it, when Lady Marion, with an unusual glow of animation on her face, came to Leone, who was sitting alone.

"Madame Vanira," she said, "it seems cruel to deprive others of the pleasure of your society, but I should like to talk to you. I have some pretty things which I have brought from Spain, which I should like to show you. Will it please you to leave the ballroom and come with me, or do you care for dancing?"

Leone smiled sadly; tragedy and comedy are always side by side, and it seemed to her, who had had so terrible a tragedy in her life, who stood face to face with so terrible a tragedy now, it seemed to her absurd that she should think of dancing.

"I would rather talk to you," she replied, "than do anything else." The two beautiful, graceful women left the ballroom together. Leone made some remark on the magnificence of the rooms as they pa.s.sed, and Lady Chandos smiled.

"I am a very home-loving being myself. I prefer the pretty little morning-room where we take breakfast, and my own boudoir, to any other place in the house; they seem to be really one's own because no one else enters them. Come to my boudoir now, Madame Vanira, and I will show you a whole lot of pretty treasures that I brought from Spain."

"From Spain." She little knew how those words jarred even on Leone's heart. It was in Spain they had intrigued to take her husband from her, and while Lady Marion was collecting art treasures the peace and happiness of her life had been wrecked, her fair name blighted, her love slain. She wondered to herself at the strange turn of fate which had brought her into contact with the one woman in all the world that she felt she ought to have avoided. But there was no resisting Lady Marion when she chose to make herself irresistible. There was something childlike and graceful in the way in which she looked up to Madame Vanira, with an absolute worship of her genius, her voice, and her beauty. She laid her white hand on Leone's.

"You will think me a very gushing young lady, I fear, Madame Vanira, if I say how fervently I hope we shall always be friends; not in the common meaning of the words, but real, true, warm friends until we die. Have you ever made such a compact of friendship with any one?"

Leone's heart smote her, her face flushed.

"Yes," she replied; "I have once."

Lady Chandos looked up at her quickly.

"With a lady, I mean?"

"No," said Leone; "I have no lady friends; indeed, I have few friends of any kind, though I have many acquaintances."

Lady Marion's hand lingered caressingly on the white shoulder of Leone.