lain marks of suffering that with
difficulty she removed her eyes from it. Nor could she make reply to
him, so intensely were her thoughts occupied with what she saw.

"Perhaps," he said, "you had rather not undertake anything at once."
Then, his voice changing slightly, "I have no wish to seem a suppliant,
Mrs. Baske. My reasons for saying that this marriage shall not, if I
can prevent it, take place till Miss Doran is of age, are surely simple
and convincing enough; I can't suppose that it is necessary to insist
upon them to you. But I feel I had no right to leave any means unused.
By speaking to you, I might cause you to act more earnestly than you
otherwise would. That was all."

"I am very willing to help you," she replied, with carefully courteous
voice.

"After all, I had rather we didn't put it in that way," Mallard
resumed, with a curious doggedness, as if her tone were distasteful to
him. "My own part in the business is accidental. Please tell me: is it,
or not, your own belief that a delay is desirable?"

The reply was forced from her.

"I certainly think it is."

"May I ask you if you have reasoned with your brother about it?"

"I haven't had any communication with him since--since we knew of
this." She paused; but, before Mallard had shown an intention to speak,
added abruptly, "I should have thought that Miss Doran might have been
trusted to understand and respect your wishes."

"Miss Doran knows my wishes," he answered drily, "but I haven't
insisted upon them to her, and am not disposed to do so."

"Would it not be very simple and natural if you did?"

The look he gave her was stern all but to anger.

"It wouldn't be a very pleasant task to me, Mrs. Baske, to lay before
her my strongest arguments against her marrying Mr. Elgar. And if I
don't do that, it seems to me that it is better to let her know my
wishes through Mrs. Lessingham. As you say, it is to be hoped she will
understand and respect them."

He rose from his chair. For some reason, Miriam could not utter the
words that one part of her prompted. She wished to assure him that she
would do her best with Reuben, but at the same time she resented his
mode of addressing her, and the conflict made her tongue-tied.

"I won't occupy more of your time, Mrs. Baske."

She would have begged him to resume his seat. The conversation had been
so short; she wanted to hear him speak more freely. But her request,
she knew, would be disregarded Wi