e fog and the
wind, Mr. Hammond asked me to be his wife.'

'I am not surprised to hear it,' retorted her ladyship, with a harsh
laugh. 'A girl who could act so boldly and flirtingly was a natural mark
for an adventurer. Mr. Hammond no doubt has been told that you will have
a little money by-and-by, and thinks he might do worse than marry you.
And seeing how you have flung yourself at his head, he naturally
concludes that you will not be too proud to accept your sister's
leavings.'

'There is nothing gained by making cruel speeches, grandmother,' said
Mary, firmly. 'I have promised to be John Hammond's wife, and there is
nothing you nor anyone else can say which will make me alter my mind. I
wish to act dutifully to you, if I can, and I hope you will be good to
me and consent to this marriage. But if you will not consent, I shall
marry him all the same. I shall be full of sorrow at having to disobey
you, but I have promised, and I will keep my promise.'

'You will act in open rebellion against me--against the kinswoman who
has reared you, and educated you, and cared for you in all these years!'

'But you have never loved me,' answered Mary, sadly. 'Perhaps if you had
given me some portion of that affection which you lavished on my sister
I might be willing to sacrifice this now deep love for your sake--to lay
down my broken heart as a sacrifice on the altar of gratitude. But you
never loved me. You have tolerated me, endured my presence as a
disagreeable necessity of your life, because I am my father's daughter.
You and Lesbia have been all the world to each other; and I have stood
aloof, outside your charmed circle, almost a stranger to you. Can you
wonder, grandmother, recalling this, that I am unwilling to surrender
the love that has been given me to-day--the true heart of a brave and
good man!'

Lady Maulevrier looked at her for some moments in scornful wonderment;
looked at her with a slow, deliberate smile.

'Poor child!' she said; 'poor ignorant, inexperienced baby! For what a
Will-o-the-wisp are you ready to sacrifice my regard, and all the
privileges of your position as my granddaughter! No doubt this Mr.
Hammond has said all manner of fine things to you; but can you be weak
enough to believe that he who half a year ago was sighing and dying at
the feet of your sister can have one spark of genuine regard for you?
The thing is not in nature; it is an obvious absurdity. But it is easy
enough to understand t