"Rubbish!" cried my lady. "It's a trick. I know the Ancrams, and there isn't one of them, and never was one of them—of the Warwickshire Ancrams, that is—who would stick at a lie!"

Lady Seely was in a towering passion. She had met Algernon Errington on the stairs as he was leaving her husband's room for the second time that afternoon. Algernon had slipped past her with a silent bow, and had refused to return, although she screamed after him at the full pitch of her lungs. Upon this Lady Seely had gone to her husband's room, and in a few minutes had drawn from him the confession that he had promised Algernon to use his utmost endeavours to obtain a post for him on the Continent. And then, on her violent opposition to this scheme, Lord Seely had been led on to tell her pretty nearly what Algernon had told him; dwelling very strongly on the circumstance that Castalia was in a strange, excited state, and might not be deemed responsible for her actions. But neither did this terrible revelation make much impression on my lady.

"Rubbish!" she said again. "And if she is in this queer excited condition, what makes her so?"

"Belinda, you do not realise the full extent. This is a more serious, a more frightful matter than you seem to think."

"Oh no it isn't, my lord! You'll see! A young rascal, to come here with his cock-and-a-bull stories, and try to frighten you into getting a berth for him! Why, there's nothing to be had, if one was willing to try, except the consulate at what's-his-name, on the Mediterranean, that Mr. Buller mentioned when you spoke to him about my nephew."

"I thought that might be got for Ancram, Belinda."

"Got for Ancram! Fiddlestick's end! What next? If the consulate is to be had, Reginald shall have it, that's flat!"

Lord Seely lay back in his chair and groaned.

"Yes," cried his wife, her cheeks flaming with anger until the rouge she wore seemed but a pale pigment on the hot colour beneath, "there it is! He has made you ever so much worse; upset you completely; thrown you back a fortnight, as Dr. Nokes said. He couldn't think what was the matter when he came at one o'clock. No more could I. 'My lord appears to have been agitated!' said he. Agitated! Yes; I'd agitate that young villain with a vengeance if I could get hold of him!"

"But you agitate me—me, Belinda. And, let me tell you, that you are not showing a proper feeling in the case as regards Castalia; my niece Castalia; poor unhappy girl!"

My lady stood up—she had risen to her feet in her wrath against Algernon—big, florid, loud of voice, and vehement of will, and looked down upon her husband in his invalid's chair. And as she looked into his face she perceived, and acknowledged to herself, that it would not do to drive him to extremities; that on this occasion neither indolence, habit, and bodily weakness on the one hand, nor sheer force of tongue and temper on the other, would avail to make him succumb to her. She changed her tone, and began to give her view of the case. She gave it the more effectively in that she spoke the truth, as far as the representation of her genuine opinion went. She did not believe a word about Castalia's having stolen money-letters. (Lord Seely winced when she blurted out the accusation nakedly in so many words.) Not one word! As to the gossip in Whitford, that might be, or might not; they had but Ancram's word for it. If Castalia was in this nervous, miserable state of mind; if she did pry on her husband, and prowl about the post-office, and even open his letters (that might be; nothing more likely!); if all these statements were true, what conclusion did they point to? Not that Castalia was a thief (my lord put his hand up at the word, as if to ward off a stab), but that she was insanely jealous.

The suggestion brought a gleam of comfort to Lord Seely. And it approved itself to his reason. The one explanation was in harmony with all that he knew of his niece's character. The other was not.

"Jealous, eh, Belinda?"

"Of course! Insanely jealous, that always was her character, when she lived in our house. She was jealous of Lady Harriet Dormer; she was jealous of everybody and everything that Ancram looked at."

"Jealous!" repeated my lord musingly. "But to act so strangely—to expose herself to animadversion—to go the length of opening desks and letters!—She must have had some cause, some great provocation."

"Nothing more likely! Ancram is good-looking and young; and Castalia—isn't."

"But where did she procure that money without her husband's knowledge?"

"Don't know, I'm sure."

"And her extravagance, and running him into debt as she has done—it seems to point to some mental aberration, does it not, Belinda?"

"Oh, fiddle-faddle, my lord! Why this, and how that! How do we know what truth there is in the whole story?"

"Belinda?"

"Oh, bless you, I'm too old a bird to be caught by any chaff the Ancrams can offer me."

"But, good heavens, Belinda, it is utterly incredible——"

"Nothing's incredible of an Ancram in the way of lying," returned the great lady of that family with much coolness. "This young jackanapes has got into a scrape down at What-do-ye-call-it. Things have gone wrong in the office—(I'll be bound he don't mind his business a bit)—he and his wife have got into debt between them. He don't like the place; and after bothering your life out for money, he comes off here without 'with your leave' or 'by your leave,' and asks to be sent abroad. That's my notion of the matter. And any way, if I were you, Valentine, I should take no sort of action, nor commit myself in any way, until I'd had Castalia's version of the story."

Lord Seely pressed his hand to his forehead, and writhed on his chair. "I wish to God that I could go to the place and speak with Castalia myself!" he cried. "There are things that cannot be written. But here I am a prisoner. It is a dreadful misfortune."

"I can't undertake to go trapesing down there in this weather," exclaimed my lady. "And, besides, I wouldn't leave you just now."

Lord Seely by no means wished that his wife should interfere personally in the matter. He well knew that nothing but discord was likely to arise from any interview between Castalia and her aunt. "There is no one I could send," he murmured. "No one I could trust."

"............