ish such a hope. You are both paupers,
for one thing, and for the rest, I assure you, my dear, Maurice is
not as infatuated about you as you are about him!"

Mrs. Bethune makes a sudden movement; it is slight. Her face
darkens. One reading between the lines might at this moment see that
she could have killed Lady Rylton with a wondrous joy. Killing has
its consequences, however, and she only stands quite quiet, looking
at her foe. What a look it is!

"It is you who are mad," says she calmly. "What I meant was that I
should probably marry some rich nobody for the sake of his wealth.
It would be quite in my line. I should arrange him, form him, bring
him into Society, even against Society's will! There is a certain
excitement in the adventure. As for Maurice, he is no doubt in your
eyes a demigod--in mine," with infinite contempt, "he is a man."

"Well, I hope you will keep to all that," says Lady Rylton, who is
shrewd as she is cruel, "and that you will not interfere with this
marriage I have arranged for Maurice."

"Why would I interfere?"

"Because you interfere always. You can't bear to see any man love
any woman but yourself."

Mrs. Bethune smiles. "A common fault. It belongs to most women. But
this girl--you like her?"

"On the contrary, as I have told you, I detest her. Once Maurice has
her money safely in his hands, I shall know how to deal with her. A
little, ignorant, detestable child! I tell you, Marian, that the
time will come when I shall pay her out for her silly insolence
towards me."

"She is evidently going to have a good time if Maurice proposes to
her."

"He _shall_ propose. Why----" She breaks off suddenly. "Not another
word," says she, putting up her hand. "Here is Maurice. I shall
speak to him now."

"Shall I stay and help you?"

"No, thank you," says Lady Rylton, with a little knowing grimace.

Seeing it, Marian's detestation grows apace. She rises--and calmly,
yet swiftly, leaves the room. Sir Maurice is only crossing the lawn
now, and by running through the hall outside, and getting on to the
veranda outside the dining-room window, she can see him before he
enters the drawing-room.

Gaining the veranda, she leans over the railings and makes a signal
to him; it is an old signal. Rylton responds to it, and in a second
is by her side.

"Oh no, you must not stay; your mother is waiting for you in the
south drawing-room. She saw you coming; she wants you."

"Well, but about what?"