y and becoming in one so placed as Lord
Hampstead. There had been something in this to make Mrs. Roden almost
fear that her words had been taken as intending too much,--that
Marion had accepted them as a caution against danger. Not for
worlds would she have induced the girl to think that any danger was
apprehended. But now the danger had come, and it behoved Mrs. Roden
if possible to prevent the evil. "Will you come across with me now?"
said Hampstead, having sat silent in his chair while these thoughts
were passing through the lady's mind.

"I think not, my lord."

"Why not, Mrs. Roden? Will it not be better than that I should go
alone?"

"I hope you will not go at all."

"I shall go,--certainly. I consider myself bound by all laws of
honesty to tell her what she has done to me. She can then judge what
may be best for herself."

"Do not go at any rate to-day, Lord Hampstead. Let me beg at least as
much as that of you. Consider the importance of the step you will be
taking."

"I have thought of it," said he.

"Marion is as good as gold."

"I know she is."

"Marion, I say, is as good as gold; but is it likely that any girl
should remain untouched and undazzled by such an offer as you can
make her?"

"Touched I hope she may be. As for dazzled,--I do not believe in it
in the least. There are eyes which no false lights can dazzle."

"But if she were touched, as would no doubt be the case," said Mrs.
Roden, "could it be well that you with such duties before you should
marry the daughter of Zachary Fay? Listen to me a moment," she
continued, as he attempted to interrupt her. "I know what you would
say, and I sympathize with much of it; but it cannot be well for
society that classes should be mixed together suddenly and roughly."

"What roughness would there be?" he asked.

"As lords and ladies are at present, as dukes are, and duchesses, and
such like, there would be a roughness to them in having Marion Fay
presented to them as one of themselves. Lords have married low-born
girls, I know, and the wives have been contented with a position
which has almost been denied to them, or only grudgingly accorded. I
have known something of that, my lord, and have felt--at any rate I
have seen--its bitterness. Marion Fay would fade and sink to nothing
if she were subjected to such contumely. To be Marion Fay is enough
for her. To be your wife, and not to be thought fit to be your wife,
would not be half enough."

"Sh