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322 but in most striking contrast in his own, he remained for an interval touched only by the devotion and courage which in the beautiful Italian took a yet higher tone, when shame and death might have bade a weaker temper shrink from the avowal. But there she stood, her cheek flushed even in the moonlight with generous earnestness, her brow wearing a sad but strong resolve, and her delicate hand just touching his arm, as if to mark by how dear a claim she drew to his side. It was but momentary; and revenge—revenge born of pique and avarice—became the Duke's paramount sensation.

As to Lord Avonleigh, the common phrase of "he was in a rage" precisely expresses his emotion. What he intended to do was not very clear even to himself, but it was to be something very dreadful. He snatched Francesca's arm from her lover's, and his hasty order of "Away with him!" was instantly obeyed; and Evelyn was conveyed at once to a lonely apartment in the Castle, where he was left to pass the night in sleep or thought, as best he might—the first glance round the chamber showing the utter hopelessness of escape.

"I am sorry, madam," said Lord Avonleigh, "to propose a step so disagreeable as a return to the home which you have deemed unworthy the