t Lady Hubert's, had spoken to
her and looked at her with that slight touch of laughing contempt. There
had been no insincerity in that emotion with which she had first
appealed to him as her mother's friend; she did truly value the old
man's good opinion. And yet she had told him lies.

"I can't help it," she said to herself, with a little shiver. The story
about the biography had been the invention of a moment. It had made
things easy, and it had a small foundation in the fact that Lady Henry
had talked vaguely of using the letters lent her by Captain Warkworth
for the elucidation--perhaps in a _Nineteenth Century_ article--of
certain passages in her husband's Indian career.

Jacob Delafield, too. There also it was no less clear to her than to Sir
Wilfrid that she had "overdone it." It was true, then, what Lady Henry
said of her--that she had an overmastering tendency to intrigue--to a
perpetual tampering with the plain fact?

"Well, it is the way in which such people as I defend themselves," she
said, obstinately, repeating to herself what she had said to Sir
Wilfrid Bury.

And then she set against it, proudly, that disinterestedness of which,
as she vowed to herself, no one but she knew the facts. It was true,
what she had said to the Duchess and to Sir Wilfrid. Plenty of people
would give her money, would make her life comfortable, without the need
for any daily slavery. She would not take it. Jacob Delafield would
marry her, if she lifted her finger; and she would not lift it. Dr.
Meredith would marry her, and she had said him nay. She hugged the
thought of her own unknown and unapplauded integrity. It comforted her
pride. It drew a veil over that wounding laughter which had gleamed for
a moment through those long lashes of Sir Wilfrid Bury.

Last of all, as she sank into her restless sleep, came the remembrance
that she was still under Lady Henry's roof. In the silence of the night
the difficulties of her situation pressed upon and tormented her. What
was she to do? Whom was she to trust?

* * * * *

"Dixon, how is Lady Henry?"

"Much too ill to come down-stairs, miss. She's very much put out; in
fact, miss (the maid lowered her voice), you hardly dare go near her.
But she says herself it would be absurd to attempt it."

"Has Hatton had any orders?"

"Yes, miss. I've just told him what her ladyship wishes. He's to tell
everybody that Lady Henry's very sorry, and hoped up