d to her son's side.

"What have you to say?" she asked Mr. Caryll.

"Nay, madam," he replied, "not before these." And he indicated the
servants.

"'Tis but a pretext to have them out of the room," said Rotherby.

Mr. Caryll laughed the notion to scorn. "If you think that--I give you
my word of honor to attempt no violence, nor to depart until you shall
give me leave," said he.

Rotherby, judging Mr. Caryll by his knowledge of himself, still
hesitated. But her ladyship realized, in spite of her detestation of the
man, that he was not of the temper of those whose word is to be doubted.
She signed to the footmen.

"Go," she bade them. "Wait within call."

They departed, and Mr. Caryll remained seated for all that her ladyship
was standing; it was as if by that he wished to show how little he was
minded to move.

Her ladyship's eye fell upon Hortensia. "Do you go, too, child," she
bade her.

Instead, Hortensia came forward. "I wish to remain, madam," she said.

"Did I ask you what you wished?" demanded the countess.

"My place is here," Hortensia explained. "Unless Mr. Caryll should,
himself, desire me to depart."

"Nay, nay," he cried, and smiled upon her fondly--so fondly that the
countess's eyes grew wider. "With all my heart, I desire you to remain.
It is most fitting you should hear that which I have to say."

"What does it mean?" demanded Rotherby, thrusting himself forward, and
scowling from one to the other of them. "What d'ye mean, Hortensia?"

"I am Mr. Caryll's betrothed wife," she answered quietly.

Rotherby's mouth fell open, but he made no sound. Not so her ladyship.
A peal of shrill laughter broke from her. "La! What did I tell you,
Charles?" Then to Hortensia: "I'm sorry for you, ma'am," said she. "I
think ye've been a thought too long in making up your mind." And she
laughed again.

"Lord Ostermore lies above stairs," Hortensia reminded her, and her
ladyship went white at the reminder, the indecency of her laughter borne
in upon her.

"Would ye lesson me, girl?" she cried, as much to cover her confusion
as to vent her anger at the cause of it. "Ye've an odd daring, by God!
Ye'll be well matched with his impudence, there."

Rotherby, singularly self-contained, recalled her to the occasion.

"Mr. Caryll is waiting," said he, a sneer in his voice.

"Ah, yes," she said, and flashing a last malignant glance upon
Hortensia, she sank to a chair beside her, but not too near her.

Mr. Car