g use of men, that was all; and when Alice walked out of the
room, Mrs. Barton felt sorry for what she had said, and she would have
gone to comfort her daughter if Olive had not, at that moment, stood in
imminent need of comfort.

'I suppose,' she said pettishly, 'the letter you received this morning
is from the Marquis, to say he won't be here next Tuesday?'

It was. For as the day fixed for his arrival at Brookfield approached,
he would write to apologize, and to beg that he might be allowed to
postpone his visit to Monday week or Wednesday fortnight. Mrs. Barton
replied that they would be very glad to see him when he found it
convenient to come and see them. She did not inquire into the reason of
his rudeness, she was determined to fight the battle out to the end, and
she did not dare to think that he was being prompted by that beast of a
girl, Violet Scully.

'He writes a very nice letter indeed. He says he has a very bad cold,
and doesn't like to show himself at Brookfield with a red nose, but
that, unless he dies in the meantime, he will be with us on the
twentieth of the month, and will--if we'll have him--stop three weeks
with us.'

'I knew the letter was a put-off. I don't believe he admires me at all,
the little beast; and I know I shall never be a marchioness. You made me
treat poor Edward shamefully, and for no purpose, after all.'

'Now, Olive, you mustn't speak like that. Go upstairs and ask Barnes if
she has heard anything lately?'

'Oh, I'm sick of Barnes; what has she heard?'

'She is a great friend of Lady Georgina's maid, who knows the Burkes
intimately, particularly Lady Emily's maid, and Barnes got a letter from
her friend the other day, saying that Lady Emily was delighted at the
idea of her brother marrying you, dear, and that he thinks of nobody
else, speaks of nobody else. Run up and speak to her about it.'

As we have seen, Mrs. Barton had drugged Olive's light brain with
visions of victories, with dancing, dresses, admiration; but now, in the
tiring void of country days, memories of Edward's love and devotion were
certain to arise. He made, however, no attempt to renew his courtship.
At Gort, within three miles, he remained silent, immovable as one of the
Clare mountains. Sometimes his brown-gold moustache and square shoulders
were caught sight of as he rode rapidly along the roads. He had once
been seen sitting with Mrs. Lawler behind the famous cream-coloured
ponies; and to allude t