Without another word, my lady touched the bell. To the servant who entered she said:
"Will you show this person out as far as the park gates, please?"
And, without another look at Leone, she quitted the room.
Leone followed in silence. She did not even look around the sumptuous home one day she believed to be hers; she went to the great gates which the man-servant held open as she passed through. The sun had set, and the gray, sweet gloaming lay over the land. There was a sound of falling water, and Leone made her way to it. It was a cascade that fell from a small, but steep rock. The sound of the rippling water was to her like the voice of an old friend, the sight of it like the face of some one whom she loved. She sat down by it, and it sung to her the same sweet old song:
"A ring in pledge he gave her,
And vows of love we spoke;
Those vows are all forgotten,
The ring asunder broke."
It would not be so with her, ah no! If ever the needle was true to the pole, the flowers to the sun, the tides to the moon, the stars to the heavens, Lord Chandos would be true to her.
So she believed, and, despite her sorrow, her heart found rest in the belief.