ll my
life. The worst of your pain is over, all mine is to come."

"Why? why?" broke in Belle. "What is such a promise as that? He cannot
force you to marry him, and it is better for a woman to die than to
marry a man she hates, especially," she added meaningly, "if she
happens to care for somebody else. Be advised by me, I know what it
is."

"Yes," said Ida, "perhaps it is better to die, but death is not so
easy. As for the promise, you do not seem to understand that no
gentleman or lady can break a promise in consideration of which money
has been received. Whatever he has done, and whatever he is, I /must/
marry Mr. Cossey, so I do not think that we need discuss the subject
any more."

Belle sat silent for a minute or more, and then rising said that she
must go. "I have warned you," she added, "although to warn you I am
forced to put myself at your mercy. You can tell the story and destroy
me if you like. I do not much care if you do. Women such as I grow
reckless."

"You must understand me very little, Mrs. Quest" (it had always been
Belle before, and she winced at the changed name), "if you think me
capable of such conduct. You have nothing to fear from me."

She held out her hand, but in her humility and shame, Belle went
without taking it, and through the angry sunset light walked slowly
back to Boisingham. And as she walked there was a look upon her face
that Edward Cossey would scarcely have cared to see.

CHAPTER XXVII

MR. QUEST HAS HIS INNINGS

All that afternoon and far into the evening Mr. Quest was employed in
drafting, and with his own hand engrossing on parchment certain deeds,
for the proper execution of which he seemed to find constant reference
necessary to a tin box of papers labelled "Honham Castle Estates."

By eleven that night everything was finished, and having carefully
collected and docketed his papers, he put the tin box away and went
home to bed.

Next morning, about ten o'clock, Edward Cossey was sitting at
breakfast in no happy frame of mind. He had gone up to the Castle to
dinner on the previous evening, but it cannot be said that he had
enjoyed himself. Ida was there, looking very handsome in her evening
dress, but she was cold as a stone and unapproachable as a statue. She
scarcely spoke to him, indeed, except in answer to some direct remark,
reserving all her conversation for her father, who seemed to have
caught the c