Madame Vanira's beautiful face rose before her with its noble eloquence, its grandeur and truth. No, that was not the woman who would try to rob a woman of her husband's love. Madame Vanira, the queen of song, the grand and noble woman who swayed men's hearts with her glorious voice; Madame Vanira, who had kissed her face and called herself her friend. It was impossible. She could sooner have believed that the sun and the moon had fallen from the skies than that her husband had connived with her friend to deceive her. The best plan would be to ask her husband. He never spoke falsely; he would tell her at once whether it were true or not. She waited until dinner was over and then said to him:
"Lance, can you spare me a few minutes? I want to speak to you."
They were in the library, where Lord Chandos had gone to write a letter. Lady Marion looked very beautiful in her pale-blue dinner dress and a suit of costly pearls. She went up to her husband, and kneeling down by his side, she laid her fair arms round his neck.
"Lance," she said, "before I say what I have to say I want to make an act of faith in you."
He smiled at the expression.
"An act of faith in me, Marion?" he said. "I hope you have all faith."
Then, remembering, he stopped, and his face flushed.
"I have need of faith," she said, "for I have heard a strange story about you. I denied it, I deny it now, but I should be better pleased with your denial also."
"What is the story?" he asked, anxiously, and her quick ear detected the anxiety of his voice.
"Lady Ilfield has been here this afternoon, and tells me that last Tuesday you were with Madame Vanira at Ousely, that you rowed her on the river, and that Captain Blake spoke to you there. Is it true?"