for hours together. I get so frightened when
I am left alone with Edward. I live in perpetual dread that he will say
something before the children or the servants. He is quite cruel
enough."

"He will never say anything."

"You are always so decided, Rachel. You don't see possibilities, and you
don't know him as I do. He is capable of anything. I will write a note
now, and you can take it to Miss Gresley, if you _must_ go there
to-day."

"I wish to go very much."

"And you will stay another week whether she comes or not?"

There was a momentary pause before Rachel said, cheerfully, "I will stay
another week, with pleasure. But I am afraid Lord Newhaven will turn
restive at taking me in to dinner."

"Oh! he likes you. He always prefers people who are not of his own
family."

Rachel laughed. "You flatter me."

"I never flatter any one. He does like you, and, besides, there are
people coming next week for the grouse-shooting. I suppose that heavy
young Vernon is going to lumber over with you. It's not my fault if he
is always running after you. Edward insisted on having him. I don't want
him to dance attendance on _me_."

"He and I are going to bicycle to Warpington together. The Gresleys are
cousins of his. If it turns very hot we will wait till after sunset to
return, if we may."

"Just as you like," said Lady Newhaven with asperity. "But I advise you
to be careful, my dear Rachel. It never seems to occur to you what
on-lookers see at a glance, namely, that Mr. Vernon is in love with
your fortune."

"According to public opinion that is a very praiseworthy attachment,"
said Rachel, who had had about enough. "I often hear it commended."

Lady Newhaven stared. That her conversation could have the effect of a
mustard leaf did not strike her. She saw that Rachel was becoming
restive, and, of course, the reason was obvious. She was thinking of
marrying Dick.

"Well, my dear," she said, lying down on a low couch near the latticed
window, and opening a novel, "you need not be vexed with me for trying
to save you from a mercenary marriage. I only speak because I am fond of
you. But one marriage is as good as another. I was married for love
myself; I had not a farthing. And yet you see my marriage has turned out
a tragedy--a bitter, bitter tragedy."

_Tableau_.--A beautiful, sad-faced young married woman in white,
reclining among pale-green cushions near a bowl of pink carnations,
endeavoring to rouse the high