what she had done. But she
was glad, also, of Lashmar's significant behaviour and language. He
perceived, undoubtedly, that the anonymous letter came from her, and,
be the upshot what it might, their romantic intimacy gave life a new
zest. May flattered herself that she knew the tremours of amorous
emotion. "If I liked, I _could_ be really, really in love!" This was
delightful experience; this was living! Dangerous, yes; for how did she
mean to comport herself in the all but certain event of her receiving
an offer of marriage from Lord Dymchurch? Mrs. Toplady was right; Lady
Ogram had resolved upon this marriage, and would it be safe to thwart
that strong-willed old woman? Moreover, the thought was very tempting.
A peeress! Could she reasonably look for such another chance, if this
were lost? Was she prepared to sacrifice it for the sake of Dyce
Lashmar, and the emotional joys he represented?

She thought of novels and poems. Browning was much in her mind. She saw
herself as the heroine of psychological drama. How interesting! How
thrilling! During her life at Northampton, she had dreamed of such
things, with no expectation of their ever befalling her. Truly, she was
fortune's favourite. Destiny had raised her to the sphere where her
powers and sensibilities would have full play.

So it was with radiant face that she appeared at the breakfast table.
Constance and she shook hands as usual; with everyday words. It seemed
to her that she saw disquiet in the secretary's countenance--after all,
what was Miss Bride but a salaried secretary? Lashmar's betrothed might
well suffer uneasiness, under the circumstances; _she_, it was obvious,
did not regard the engagement as a mere pretence. No, no; Constance
Bride was ambitious, and thought it a great thing to marry a man with a
parliamentary career before him. She was of a domineering, jealous
nature, and it would exasperate her to feel that Lashmar merely used
her for his temporary purposes. Noble self-sacrifice, indeed! Lashmar
himself did not believe that. Best of all things, at this moment, May
would have liked to make known her power over Lashmar, and to say, "Of
course, dear Miss Bride, he is nothing whatever to me. In my position,
you understand--"

There had been a few moments' silence, when Constance asked:

"Do you ever hear of Mr. Yabsley?"

Was the woman a thought-reader? At that instant May had been
thinking--the first time for weeks, perhaps--of her Admirable