"What woman is going to reign here?" she went on, as if daring herself
to be gentle and resigned. After she had looked round the room her eye
rested upon the portrait over the mantelpiece. He looked as if he had
heard her speak and stared back at her with his large persistent selfish
eyes--full of cynical wonder. But he remained silent. These were times
that he did not understand--but he observed!

"It's on Jim's conscience that he _must_ marry, now that men are so
scarce. He's obsessed with the idea," continued Lady Dashwood, thinking
to herself. "And being like all really good and great men--absolutely
helpless--he is prepared to marry any fool who is presented to him."
Then she added, "Any fool--or worse!"

"And," she went on, speaking angrily to herself, "knowing that he is
helpless--I stupidly go and introduce into this house, a silly girl with
a pretty face whose object in coming is to be--Mrs. Middleton."

Lady Dashwood was mentally lashing herself for this stupidity.

"I go and actually put her in his way--at least," she added swiftly, "I
allow her mother to bring her and force her upon us and leave her--for
the purpose of entrapping him--and so--I've risked his future! And yet,"
she went on as her self-accusation became too painful, "I never dreamt
that he would think of a girl so young--as eighteen--and he forty--and
full of thoughts about the future of Oxford--and the New World. Somehow
I imagined some pushing female of thirty would pretend to sympathise
with his aspirations and marry him: I never supposed----But I ought to
have supposed! It was my business to suppose. Here have I left my
husband alone, when he hates being alone, for a whole month, in order to
put Jim straight--and then I go and 'don't suppose'--I'm more than a
fool--I'm----" The right word did not come to her mind.

Here Lady Dashwood's indignation against herself made the blood tingle
hotly in her hands and face. She was by nature calm, but this afternoon
she was excited. She mentally pictured the Warden--just when there was
so much for him to do--wasting his time by figuring as a sacrifice upon
the Altar of a foolish Marriage. She saw the knife at his throat--she
saw his blood flow.

At this moment the door opened and the old butler, who had served other
Wardens and who had been retained along with the best furniture as a
matter of course, came into the room and handed a telegram to Lady
Dashwood.

She tore open the envelope and re