"Happy!" replied Henrietta, with a sneer, a little more marked than she meant it to be. "I knew him before his marriage in the country." Then, turning to Lord Norbourne, added,—"It is odd how much older one grows in London than any where else. I was going to have said, years ago."
It is a strange thing, the instinct of jealousy in a woman; a sudden light seemed to burst in upon Constance. Lady Marchmont's coldness, Norbourne's embarrassment and coldness, led alike to one terrible conclusion. They had met before his marriage; and surely to meet Lady Marchmont must have been to love her. A mist gathered over her eyes: she felt cold and giddy. Scarcely conscious, she strove to reach her father, and fainted away in his arms!
Poor Constance was carried to a room in the house; and when, at length, she recovered, she was glad to accede to her husband's wish of leaving the fête. Norbourne was almost thankful for any excuse that enabled him to avoid seeing Lady Marchmont. In vain he
