a look of almost assured exultation in the dark eyes, my soul was suddenly and thoroughly revolted.  I had forgiven the hand aimed at a heart that never throbbed with a pulse unkind to her.  I might have forgotten the treason that requited tenderness and trust by seeking my life; but I could never forget, never recover, that moment’s insight into thoughts that so outraged an affection which, if my conscience belied me not, was absolutely stainless and unselfish.

It cost a strong persistent effort of self-control to address her again.  But a confession full and complete my duty to others compelled me to enforce.  The story of the next hour I never told or can tell.  To one only did I give a confidence that would have rendered explanation natural; and that one was the last to whom I could have spoken on this subject.  Enough that the charming infantine simplicity had disguised an elaborate treachery of which I reluctantly learned that human nature is capable.  The caressed and caressing child had sold my life, if not her own soul, for the promise of wealth that could purchase nothing I denied her, and of the first place among the women of her world.  That promise I soon found had not been warranted, directly or indirectly, by him who alone could at present fulfil it.  Needless to relate the details either of the confession or its extortion.  Enough that Eive learnt at last perforce that though I had, as it seemed to her, been fool enough to spare her the vengeance of the law, and to spare her still as far as possible, her power to fool me further was gone for ever.  Needless to speak of the lies repeated and sustained, till truth was wrung from quivering lips and sobbing voice; of the looks that appealed long and incredulously to a love as utterly forfeited as misunderstood.  To the last Eive could not comprehend the nature that, having spared her so much, would not spare wholly; the mercy felt for the weakness, not for the charms of youth and sex.  Shamed, grieved, wounded to the quick, I quitted the presence of one who, I fear, was as little worth the anguish I then endured for her, as the tenderness she had so long betrayed; and left the late darling of my house a prisoner under strict guard, necessary for the safety of others than ourselves.

Finding a message awaiting me, I sought at once the interview which the Sovereign fearlessly granted.

“I see,” said the Prince with much feeling, as he received my salute, “that you have gone through deeper pain than such domestic losses can well cause to us.  I am sorry that you are grieved.  I can say no more, and perhaps the less I say the less pain I shall give.  Only permit me this remark.  Since I have known you, it has seemed to me that the utter distinction between our character and yours, showing as it does at so many points, springs from some single root-difference.  We, so careful of our own life and comfort, care little for those of others.  We, so afraid of pain, are indifferent