Having read the letter through once Lady Constantine flung it aside with

an impatient little stamp that shook the decaying old floor and casement.

Its contents produced perturbation, misgiving, but not retreat. The deep

glow of enchantment shed by the idea of a private union with her

beautiful young lover killed the pale light of cold reasoning from an

indifferently good relative.

'Oh, no,' she murmured, as she sat, covering her face with her hand.

'Not for wealth untold could I give him up now!' No argument, short of Apollo in person from the clouds, would have

influenced her. She made her preparations for departure as if nothing

had intervened.

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