de a
very good marriage. But this one--I didn't bargain for you and Hermione
getting mixed up with her.'

'I don't see that we're either of us---- But Miss Levering seems to go
everywhere. Why shouldn't she?'

With sudden emphasis, 'You mustn't ask her to Eaton Square,' said Aunt
Lydia.

'I have.'

Mrs. Heriot half rose from her seat. 'Then you'll have to get out of
it!'

'Why?'

'I am sure your grandfather would agree with me. I warn you I won't
stand by and see that woman getting you into her clutches.'

'Clutches? Why should you think she wants me in her clutches?'

'Just for the pleasure of clutching! She's the kind that's never
satisfied till she has everybody in the pitiful state your Aunt Ellen's
in about her. Richard Farnborough, too, just on the very verge of asking
Hermione to marry him!'

'Oh, is that it?' the girl smiled wisely.

'No!' Too late Mrs. Heriot saw her misstep. 'That's _not_ it! And I am
sure, if Mr. Stonor knew what I do, he would agree with me that you must
not ask her to the house.'

'Of course I'd do anything he asked me to. But he would give me a
reason. And a very good reason, too!' The pretty face was very stubborn.

Aunt Lydia's wore the inflamed look not so much of one who is angry as
of a person who has a cold in the head.

'I'll give you the reason!' she said. 'It's not a thing I should have
preferred to tell you, but I know how difficult you are to guide--so I
suppose you'll have to know.' She looked round and lowered her voice.
'It was ten or twelve years ago. I found her horribly ill in a lonely
Welsh farmhouse.'

'Miss Levering?'

Mrs. Heriot nodded. 'We had taken the Manor for that August. The
farmer's wife was frightened, and begged me to go and see what I
thought. I soon saw how it was--I thought she was dying.'

'_Dying?_ What was the----'

'I got no more out of her than the farmer's wife did. She had no
letters. There had been no one to see her except a man down from London,
a shady-looking doctor--nameless, of course. And then this result. The
farmer and his wife, highly respectable people, were incensed. They were
for turning the girl out.'

'_Oh_! but----'

'Yes. Pitiless some of these people are! Although she had forfeited all
claim--still she was a daughter of Sir Hervey Levering. I insisted they
should treat the girl humanely, and we became friends--that is, "sort
of." In spite of all I did for her----'

'What did you do?'

'I--I've told yo