ly, "not the first time. The last
time I saw you, Mrs. Brand----"

"Oh, my lady, my lady!" Mrs. Brand almost shrieked, "for heaven's sake,
my lady, don't go on!"

She covered her face with her hands and rocked herself convulsively to
and fro. Wyvis frowned and bit his lip: Margaret started and
unconsciously withdrew her hand. It crossed the minds of both that Mrs.
Brand's tone was that of an inferior, that of a servant to a mistress,
not that of one lady to her equal.

"Why should I not go on?" said Lady Caroline, glancing from one to
another as if in utter ignorance. "Have I said anything wrong? I only
meant that I was present at Mrs. Brand's _first_ wedding--when she
married your father, Mr. Wyvis--not your adopted father, of course, but
John Wyvis, the ploughman."

There was a moment's silence. Then Wyvis took a step forward and
thundered. "_What?_" while the veins stood out upon his forehead and his
eyes seemed to be gathering sombre fire. Mrs. Brand, with her head bowed
upon her hands, still rocked herself and sobbed.

"I hope I have not been indiscreet," said Lady Caroline, innocently.
"You look a little surprised. It is surely no secret that you are the
son of Mary Wyvis and her cousin, John Wyvis, and that you were brought
up by Mr. Brand as his son simply out of consideration for his wife? I
am sure I beg your pardon if I have said anything amiss. As Mrs. Brand
seems disturbed, I had better go."

"Not until my mother has contradicted this ridiculous slander," said
Wyvis, sternly. But his mother only shook her head and wailed aloud.

"I can't, my dear--I can't. It's true every word of it. My lady knows."

"Of course I know. Come, Mary, don't be foolish," said Lady Caroline, in
the carelessly sharp tone in which one sometimes speaks to an erring
dependant. "I took an interest in you at the time, you will remember,
although I was only a child staying at Helmsley Court at the time with
Mr. Adair's family. I was fourteen, I think; and you were scullery-maid
or something, and told me about your sweetheart, John Wyvis. There is
nothing to be ashamed of: you were married very suitably, and if Wyvis,
the ploughman, had not been run over when he was intoxicated, and killed
before your baby's birth, you might even now have been living down at
Wych End, with half a dozen stalwart sons and daughters--of whom you,
Mr. Wyvis, or Mr. Wyvis Brand, as you are generally known, would have
been the eldest--probably by this