invariably made wretched.  But Sir CHARLES knew none of these things.  He was apparently only too proud to be dragged at his wife’s chariot-wheels in her triumphant progress.  For the strange part of the business is that there was absolutely no need for any of her deeply-laid schemes.  Success, popularity and esteem would have come to her readily without them.  She was, as I said, beautiful.  Innocence seemed to be throned on her fresh and glowing face.  Her smile fascinated, her voice was a poem, and she was musical in the best sense of the word at a time when good music, although it might lack popular support, could always command a small band of enthusiastic votaries in London.

There was at this time living in London an Italian artist, man of letters and musical virtuoso, who was the spoiled darling of Society.  All the women raved about him, the men liked him, for he had fought bravely on the field of battle, was a sportsman and had about him that frank and abundant gaiete de coeur, which powerfully attracts the less exuberant Englishman.  For his part CASANUOVA (that was his name) bore all his successes with good-nature and without swagger.  Of course there were whispers about him.  Where so many women worshipped, it was certain that two or three would lose their heads.  Amongst this limited number was little Mrs. MILLETT, one of Lady CALLENDER’s most intimate friends.  She made no secret of her grande passion.  She poured her tale into the ears of Lady CALLENDER, and asked for sympathy and help.  Lady CALLENDER promised both, and at the self-same moment, made up her mind that she would withdraw from Mrs. MILLETT such affection as CASANUOVA had honoured her with, and bring him, not because she cared for him, but merely for the sport of the thing, to her own feet.  She succeeded admirably.  Under the pretence of bringing CASANUOVA and Mrs. MILLETT together (such things, you know, have been done in good Society) she invited him constantly to her house; she gave musical parties in his honour, she used all her fascinations, and finally, having fooled Ariadne to the top of her bent, she captured Theseus, and bore him off.

Mrs. MILLETT was a foolish and frivolous little woman.  Rage and despair made her a demon.  She resolved on revenge, and proceeded to it with a cool and astonishing persistency.  Now I do not myself believe that Lady CALLENDER cared two straws about CASANUOVA.  What she aimed at and enjoyed was the discomfiture of a friend.  In order to obtain it, however, she committed a fatal imprudence.  She wrote some letters which would have convinced even a French jury of her guilt.  By a master-stroke of cunning wickedness, Mrs. MILLETT gained possession of them, and sent them to Sir CHARLES.  It happened that about this time Sir CHARLES was in a very low state of health, and his friends were anxious about him.  One afternoon, when Sir CHARLES was confined to his bed, Lady CALLENDER was playing the piano to her Italian slave.  A