at least, who had in those days been Constance Vane, but who now was the stout mother of two or three children—­had been a waxen doll of a girl, whom Harry had known, but had neither liked nor admired.  But she was highly bred, and belonged to the cream of English fashion; she had possessed a complexion as pure in its tints as are the interior leaves of a blush rose, and she had never had a thought in her head, and hardly ever a word on her lips.  She and Florence Burton were as poles asunder in their differences.  Harry felt this at once, and had an indistinct notion that Lady Ongar was as well aware of the fact as was he himself.  “She is not a bit like Constance Vane,” he said.

“Then what is she like?  If she is more beautiful than what Miss Vane used to be, she must be lovely indeed.”

“She has no pretensions of that kind,” said Harry, almost sulkily.

“I have heard that she was so very beautiful!” Lady Ongar had never heard a word about Florence’s beauty—­not a word.  She knew nothing personally of Florence beyond what Mrs. Burton had told her.  But who will not forgive her the little deceit that was necessary to her little revenge?

“I don’t know how to describe her,” said Harry.  “I hope the time may soon come when you will see her, and be able to judge for yourself.”

“I hope so too.  It shall not be my fault if I do not like her.”

“I do not think you can fail to like her.  She is very clever, and that will go further with you than mere beauty.  Not but what I think her very—­very pretty.”

“Ah!  I understand.  She reads a great deal, and that sort of thing.  Yes, that is very nice.  But I shouldn’t have thought that that would have taken you.  You used not to care much for talent and learning—­not in women, I mean.”

“I don’t know about that,” said Harry, looking very foolish.

“But a contrast is what you men always like.  Of course I ought not to say that, but you will know of what I am thinking.  A clever, highly-educated woman like Miss Burton will be a much better companion to you than I could have been.  You see I am very frank, Harry.”  She wished to make him talk freely about himself; his future days, and his past days, while he was simply anxious to say on these subjects as little as possible.  Poor woman!  The excitement of having a passion which she might indulge was over with her—­at any rate, for the present.  She had played her game and had lost woefully; but before she retired altogether from the gaming-table she could not keep herself from longing for a last throw of the dice.

“These things, I fear, go very much by chance,” said Harry.

“You do not mean me to suppose that you are taking Miss Burton by chance.  That would be as uncomplimentary to her as to yourself.”

“Chance, at any rate, has been very good to me in this instance.”

“Of that I am sure.  Do not suppose that I am doubting that.  It is not only the paradise that you have gained, but the pandemonium that you have escaped!” Then she laughed slightly, but the laughter was uneasy, and made her angry with herself.  She had especially determined to be at ease during this meeting, and was conscious that any falling off in that respect on her part would put into his hands the power which she was desirous of exercising.