t come, sit down with the others. I
hope your meal will not be disturbed, but I may have to send for you."

"Lady Ogram--"

Constance began in a low, nervous voice. She was looking at Lashmar,
who, with an air of constraint, moved towards them.

"What is it?"

"Will you let me speak to you for a moment before--"

"No!"

With this stern monosyllable, Lady Ogram dismissed her, entered the
room, and closed the door.

Then her face changed. A smile, which was more than half a grin of
pain, responded to Lashmar's effusive salutation; but she spoke not a
word, and, when she had sunk into the nearest chair, her eyes, from
beneath drooping lids, searched the man's countenance.

"Sit down," were her first words.

Lashmar, convinced that Constance Bride had sought to avenge herself,
tried to screw up his courage. He looked very serious; he sat stiffly;
he kept his eye upon Lady Ogram's.

"Well, what have you to tell me?" she asked, with a deliberation more
disconcerting than impatience would have been.

"Everything goes on pretty well--"

"Does it? I'm glad you think so."

"What do you allude to, Lady Ogram?" Lashmar inquired with grave
respectfulness.

"What do _you_?"

"I was speaking of things at Hollingford."

"And I was thinking of things at Rivenoak."

Lashmar's brain worked feverishly. What did she know? If Constance had
betrayed him, assuredly May also must have been put to the question,
and with what result? He was spared long conjecture.

"Let us understand each other," said the autocrat, who seemed to be
recovering strength as the need arose. "I hear that you want to break
off with Constance Bride. She is no bride for you. Is that the case?"

"I am sorry to say it is the truth, Lady Ogram."

Having uttered these words, Dyce felt the heroic mood begin to stir in
him. He had no alternative now, and would prove himself equal to the
great occasion.

"You want to marry someone else?"

"I'm sure you will recognise," Lashmar replied, in his academic tone,
"that I am doing my best to act honourably, and without giving any
unnecessary pain. Under certain circumstances, a man is not entirely
master of himself--"

There sounded the luncheon bell. It rang a vague hope to Lashmar, whose
voice dropped.

"Are you hungry?" asked the hostess, with impatience.

"Not particularly, thank you."

"Then I think we had better get our little talk over and done with. We
shan't keep the others waiting."

Dyc