as more in
a spirit of a connoisseur than a friend that she made the inquiry which
her son was already longing to prompt.

"My dear child, you look very ill! How are we going to get you home?
Your own cart is injured, you say. I think you had better have the
brougham, where you can rest against the cushions. You shall have our
horses, of course. They won't run away with you, though I don't say
they have never done it before! I like a horse with a spirit of its
own, but these two have been out to-day, so they ought to be pretty
quiet."

At this reassuring speech Elma turned white to the lips, and for a
moment swayed in her seat, as if about to faint. Cornelia sprang to her
side, while Geoffrey whispered to his mother in urgent tones, to which
she listened with lifted brows, half-petulant, half-amused. A final nod
and shrug proved her consent, and she turned to Elma with a gracious air
of hospitality. Madame could never be less than gracious to a guest in
her own house!

"My dear child, forgive me! I did not realise how unnerved you were.
Of course, you must not dream of returning home to-night. Your mother
and I are old friends, and she will trust me to take care of you. Your
friend will tell her that you are going to rest quietly here until you
are better. Quite a charity, I assure you, to keep me company! It will
remind me of the days before my own Carol deserted me for that monster,
and went off to India. Only daughters should not be allowed to marry in
their mother's lifetime. Remember that when your time comes! You
won't, of course, but it's horribly ungrateful all the same. Now that's
settled! To-morrow they can send you out some things, but for to-night
I can supply all you need. A tea-gown fits anyone, and I've a dream
which has just come home, that will suit you to distraction. Don't
worry any more, dear--it's all settled!"

But Elma was palpitating with agitation. That she, Elma Ramsden, should
be invited to spend several days at Norton Manor seemed altogether too
unlooked for and extraordinary a happening to be realised. She was
overcome with gratitude, with regret, with incredulity, for of course it
was impossible to accept. Madame could not be in earnest! The
invitation was merely a polite form of speech! Even if she did mean it,
her own mother would strongly disapprove, for did she not consider
Madame a hopeless worldling, and her son a wolf in sheep's clothing, a
type of every