t any rate, how it
must shock my daughter."

"Yes," said Ruth; and added, "Why did you bring her?"

The girl's attitude--erect before her, patient, but unflinching--had
already gone some way to discompose Lady Caroline. This straight
question fairly disconcerted her; the worse because she could not
quarrel with the tone of it.

"I wish," she answered, "my Diana to face the facts of life, ugly though
they may be." As if aware that this hardly carried conviction--for,
despite herself, something in Ruth began to impress her--she shifted
ground and went on, "But we will not discuss my daughter, please.
The point is, this state of things cannot continue. It may be hard for
you--I am trying to take your view of it--but what may pass in a young
man of blood cannot be permitted when he succeeds to a title and the--
er--headship of his family. It becomes then his duty to give that
family clean heirs. I put it plainly?"

Ruth bent her head for assent.

"Oliver Vyell, as no doubt you know, has already been mixed up in one
entanglement, and has a child for reminder."

"Oh, but Dicky is the dearest child! The sweetest-natured, the
cleanest-minded! Have you not seen him yet?"

Lady Caroline stared. As little as royalty did she understand being
cross-questioned. It gave her a quite unexpected sense of helplessness.

"I fear you do not at all grasp the position," she said severely.
"After all, I had done better to disregard your feelings, whatever they
may be, and come to terms at once."

"No," answered Ruth, musing; "I do not understand the position; but I
want to, more than I can say--and your ladyship must help me, please."
She paused a moment. "In New England we prize good birth, good
breeding, and what we too call 'family'; but I think the word must mean
something different to you who live at home in England."

"I should hope so!" breathed Lady Caroline.

"It must be mixed up somehow with the great estates you have held for
generations and the old houses you have lived in. No," she went on, as
Lady Caroline would have interrupted; "please let me work it out in my
own way, and then you shall correct me where I am wrong. . . . I have
often thought how beautiful it must be to live in such an old house, one
that has all its corners full of memories--the nurseries most of all--
of children and grandchildren, that have grown up in gentleness and
courtesy and honour--"

"Good Lord!" Lady Caroline interjected. "