of all the trouble at this moment entered the room, and the
countess, whispering a few final words of instruction to him as she
passed out, left them together.

Mary took a chair in the centre of the room, at equal distance from both
doors. Lord C---, finding any sort of a seat uncomfortable under the
circumstances, preferred to stand with his back to the mantelpiece. Dead
silence was maintained for a few seconds, and then Mary, drawing the
daintiest of handkerchiefs from her pocket, began to cry. The countess
must have been a poor diplomatist, or she might have thought of this; or
she may have remembered her own appearance on the rare occasions when she
herself, a big, raw-boned girl, had attempted the softening influence of
tears, and have attached little importance to the possibility. But when
these soft, dimpled women cry, and cry quietly, it is another matter.
Their eyes grow brighter, and the tears, few and far between, lie like
dewdrops on a rose leaf.

Lord C--- was as tender-hearted a lout as ever lived. In a moment he was
on his knees with his arm round the girl's waist, pouring out such
halting words of love and devotion as came to his unready brain, cursing
his fate, his earldom, and his mother, and assuring Mary that his only
chance of happiness lay in his making her his countess. Had Mary liked
to say the word at that moment, he would have caught her to his arms, and
defied the whole world--for the time being. But Mary was a very
practical young woman, and there are difficulties in the way of handling
a lover, who, however ready he may be to do your bidding so long as your
eyes are upon him, is liable to be turned from his purpose so soon as
another influence is substituted for your own. His lordship suggested an
immediate secret marriage. But you cannot run out into the street, knock
up a clergyman, and get married on the spot, and Mary knew that the
moment she was gone his lordship's will would revert to his mother's
keeping. Then his lordship suggested flight, but flight requires money,
and the countess knew enough to keep his lordship's purse in her own
hands. Despair seized upon his lordship.

"It's no use," he cried, "it will end in my marrying her."

"Who's she?" exclaimed Mary somewhat quickly.

His lordship explained the position. The family estates were heavily
encumbered. It was deemed advisable that his lordship should marry
Money, and Money, in the person of the only daughter