of the world.

"Even to telegrams?"

"Ah! poor Lane!"

"I don't think Mr. Lane is in much need of pity."

"No--rather of envy."

Kate did not look displeased.

"Still, a man is to be pitied if he does not appreciate--"

"Mr. Haddington!"

"I beg your pardon. I ought not to have said that. But it is
hard--there, I am offending you again!"

"Yes, you must not talk like that. It's wrong; it would be wrong even if
you meant it."

"Do you think I don't mean it?"

"That would be very discreditable--but not so bad."

"You know I mean it," he said, in a low voice. "God knows I would have
said nothing if--"

"If what?"

"I shall offend you more than ever. But how can I stand by and see
_that_?" and Haddington pointed with fine scorn to the neglected book.

Kate was not agitated. She seldom was. In a tone of grave rebuke, she
said:

"You must never speak like this again. I thought I saw something of it.
["Good!" thought Haddington.] But whatever may be my lot, I am now bound
to it. Pledges are not to be broken."

"Are they not being virtually broken?" he asked, growing bolder as he
saw she listened to him.

Kate rose.

"You are not angry?"

"I cannot be angry if it is as you say. But please understand I cannot
listen. It is not honorable. No--don't say anything else. But you must
go away."

Haddington made no further effort to step her. He was well content. When
a lady hears you hint that her betrothed is less devoted than you would
be in his place, and merely says the giving of such a hint is wrong, it
may be taken that her sole objection to it is on the score of morality;
and it is to be feared that objections based on this ground are not the
most efficacious in checking forward lovers. Perhaps Miss Bernard
thought they were. Haddington didn't believe she did.

"Go away?" he said to himself. "Hardly! The play is just beginning.
Little Lady Claudia wasn't far out."

It is very possible she was not far out in her estimation of Mr.
Haddington's character, as well as in her forecast of his prospects. But
the fruits of her shrewdness on this point were happily hid from the
gentleman concerned.

CHAPTER IV.

Sir Roderick Ayre Inspects Mr. Morewood's Masterpiece.

About a fortnight later than the last recorded incident two men were
smoking on the lawn at Millstead Manor. One was Morewood; the other had
arrived only the day before and was the Sir Roderick Ayre to whom
reference has been mad