“You are so much engaged you are quite a stranger to me,” said Miss Chressham. “Forgive me for having requested your company.”

My lord answered smilingly.

“My time is yours; you must remember that it is you, not I, who have been from town.”

Susannah raised rather weary eyes.

“Compliments apart, have you half an hour to give me, Rose?”

He glanced at the silver timepiece.

“I am due at Carlisle House at ten; there is a new singer——”

“And Miss Trefusis will be there.”

The Earl raised his eyebrows.

“Perhaps—till then at least I am free.”

Miss Chressham leant back in her chair. Though it was early spring a fire burnt between the brass and irons, and cast a red glow over the shining folds of her grey dress.

The Earl, in gold and scarlet riding dress, sat easily on the brocade settee and looked, rather curiously, at his cousin.

“I have to speak of painful things,” said Miss Chressham; “but I can be silent no longer. I have been waiting——”

“For me?” asked my lord.

“For you!” Susannah picked up a drawn-silk hand-screen and held it between her face and the fire; incidentally it concealed her from the Earl’s observation.

“Rose,” she said very gravely, “you have been free nine months, and everything goes on exactly the same.”

His handsome face was expressionless.

“Why not, my dear?” he asked.

“Do you not understand me?” she returned. “But no, it is I who do not understand and you who must explain.”

“You are wondering,” said my lord, swinging his glass, “about the money.”

“There shows no difference in the style of your living, of my Lady Agatha’s living, since the—the ruin of Mr. Hilton.”

“He is in Bedlam,” said the Earl irrelevantly. “Did you know?”

Miss Chressham shuddered.

“Yes, I heard—it is very terrible; was he utterly ruined?”

“Faith, ’tis only I who keep him from the paupers.”

“I am glad you do so much.”

“I could do no less, she was my wife.”

“We will not speak of it,” said Susannah in a low voice, “but of the future.” She dropped the hand-screen and faced her cousin. “Rose, what are we all living on?”

“Debts, maybe,” smiled my lord.

Susannah frowned in a troubled way.

“You have never been sincere with me, and I think I have deserved some frankness; you were entangled before you flung up your post under Pelham.”

My lord interrupted with an air of sudden weariness.

“There are always the Jews, and in one way and another one may float. I have been lucky of late at play.”

“As you will,” answered Miss Chressham quietly. “My lady is content, but I cannot help—Ah! well, I have no right to play the monitor.”

“You are the guardian angel of our house,” smiled my lord, and gave her a soft, half-amused look. “Have you heard lately from Marius?”

Her face clouded.

“I do not care to hear you speak of him.”

“Why not?”

“You well know why. You believe that of him I never can nor will believe.”

The Earl shrugged his shoulders.

“A woman’s generous blindness, my dear.”

“A woman’s clearer vision,” she retorted hotly. “You are blind, Rose, to have known Marius all his life and still imagine he could miserably intrigue for your death; he appeared at the meeting, after your insult, out of pure honour.”

“He appeared as my second, against my will, and my pistol had been drawn,” returned the Earl dryly. “Also he had refused to fight me.”

“Because I asked it of him, and for that I can never forgive myself,” said Miss Chressham bitterly.

My lord laughed.

“I think he was fond of you.”

Miss Chressham looked into the fire.

“I have not seen him since he threw up his commission,” she said thoughtfully; “nor may I see him again, but I shall believe in him always.”

“He is still in Holland?” asked the Earl lightly.

“Yes”—Susannah roused herself—“but it is not of him I wish to speak.”

She fixed her eyes searchingly on the easy rich figure of Rose Lyndwood and went faintly pale.

“You have heard that Sir Francis Boyle is married?”

“Yes”—he was still smiling—“to Miss Brett, a beauty and a fortune.”

Susannah leant forward, resting her cheek in her hand, her elbow on the arm of the chair; her brow was anxious, and her gaze rested with painful attention on the Earl’s calm countenance.

“When are you going to marry Selina Boyle?” she asked.

He gave her a quick look; she read nothing but surprise in his fair, fickle eyes.

“Of all things I had not expected this,” he said, and laughed a little.

“You think I have no right to speak, but I am her friend, and I must ask how long will you keep her waiting?”

My lord slightly flushed.

“I am not betrothed to Miss Boyle.”

“Oh, Rose,” cried Miss Chressham, drawing a deep breath, “will you use forever this formality to me? She, Selina, told me herself, and I—have I not been a faithful confidante?” She paused, collected herself and continued, “I heard today from Bristol; she does not mention you; but she must be wondering, and why are you delaying? Rose, you have been free nearly a year.”

“By Gad, you put me in an awkward position,” said the Earl. “On my honour I do not know what to say to you.”

He rose and leant against the top of the settee, looking at her curiously.

“Why delay?” Miss Chressham spoke earnestly, almost passionately. “Announce it, go down to Bristol; neither decency nor honour demand any further tribute to the memory of that unhappy lady.”

“Susannah,” he interrupted. “You speak under the influence of an error.”

“An error?” she echoed.

“Yes, I do not intend to marry Miss Boyle.”

“Rose!” the exclamation seemed wrung from her by sheer bitter surprise. She stared at him incredulously.

He coloured, deeply now, to his powdered side-curls.

“I do not know what impossible romance you have been building, Susannah, but this you speak of I have never even contemplated.”

“You—you do not intend to marry Selina?”

“You imagined I did? My dear, it would be the simplest folly.”

Susannah rose and rested her hand against the mantelshelf.

“Please put this clearly,” she said; “why would it be folly?”

He smiled.

“You yourself, my dear, have remarked the state of my fortunes—Miss Boyle is not wealthy.”

“Money—again money!” cried Miss Chressham in horrified accents. “Do you dare to consider money—after all that has passed?”

“It is a necessary evil,” said the Earl.

“But you love her!” broke from Susannah.

A pause followed. My lord took a half-turn across the room followed by his cousin’s bewildered, appealing eyes, then he turned and faced her. His demeanour was changed, his voice when he spoke was low and grave.

“You have mistaken me,” and he put his hand to his heart in some agitation. “............