at afternoon in
Gaston's bedroom, when his grandson had acted, before Lady Dargan and
Cluny Vosse, Sir Gaston's scene with Buckingham.

"Really, most mysterious, most unaccountable. But it's one of the
virtues of having a descent. When it is most needed, it counts, it
counts."

"Against the half-breed mother!" Lady Belward added.

"Quite so, against the--was it Cree or Blackfoot? I've heard him speak
of both, but which is in him I do not remember."

"It is very painful; but, poor fellow, it is not his fault, and we ought
to be content."

"Indeed, it gives him great originality. Our old families need
refreshing now and then."

"Ah, yes, I said so to Mrs. Gasgoyne the other day, and she replied that
the refreshment might prove intoxicating. Reine was always rude."

Truth is, Mrs. Gasgoyne was not quite satisfied. That very day she said
to her husband:

"You men always stand by each other; but I know you, and you know that I
know."

"'Thou knowest the secrets of our hearts'; well, then, you know how we
love you. So, be merciful."

"Nonsense, Warren! I tell you he oughtn't to have gone when he did. He
has the wild man in him, and I am not satisfied."

"What do you want--me to play the spy?"

"Warren, you're a fool! What do I want? I want the first of September
to come quickly, that we may have him with us. With Delia he must go
straight. She influences him, he admires her--which is better than mere
love. Away from her just now, who can tell what mad adventure--! You
see, he has had the curb so long!"

But in a day or two there came a letter-unusually long for Gaston--to
Mrs. Gasgoyne herself. It was simple, descriptive, with a dash of
epigram. It acknowledged that he had felt the curb, and wanted a touch
of the unconventional. It spoke of Ian Belward in a dry phrase, and it
asked for the date of the yacht's arrival at Gibraltar.

"Warren, the man is still sensible," she said. "This letter is honest.
He is much a heathen at heart, but I believe he hasn't given Delia cause
to blush--and that's a good deal! Dear me, I am fond of the fellow--he
is so clever. But clever men are trying."

As for Delia, like every sensible English girl, she enjoyed herself in
the time of youth, drinking in delightedly the interest attaching
to Gaston's betrothed. His letters had been regular, kind yet not
emotionally affectionate, interesting, uncommon. He had a knack of
saying as much in one page as most people did in five. He