I left I could not bear
to leave it behind. It was stealing, I know," cried Miss Grant
tearfully, "and I have been brought up respectably, but I couldn't help
myself."

By this time Cuthbert was the color of an autumn sunset. He was a
modest young man, and these barefaced confessions made him wince. He
was about to interpose irritably when Jennings turned on him with a
leading question. "Why did you give that photograph to--"

"Confound it!" cried Mallow, jumping up, "I did no such thing. I knew
Maraquito only as the keeper of the gambling house. There was nothing
between--"

"Don't, sir," said Susan, rising in her turn with a flush of jealousy.
"I saw her kissing the photograph."

"Then she must be crazy," cried Mallow: "I never gave her any occasion
to behave so foolishly. For months I have been engaged, and--" he here
became aware that he was acting foolishly in talking like this to a
love-sick servant, and turned on his heel abruptly. "I'll go in the
next room," said he, "call me when you wish for my presence, Jennings.
I can't possibly stay and listen to this rubbish," and going out, he
banged the door, thereby bringing a fresh burst of tears from Susan
Grant. Every word he said pierced her heart.

"Now I've made him cross," she wailed, "and I would lay down my life
for him--that I would."

"See here, my girl," said Jennings, soothingly and fully prepared to
make use of the girl's infatuation, "it is absurd your being in love
with a gentleman of Mr. Mallow's position."

Miss Grant tossed her head. "I've read Bow-Bells and the Family
Herald, sir," she said positively, "and many a time have I read of a
governess, which is no more than a servant, marrying an earl. And that
Mr. Mallow isn't, sir."

"He will be when Lord Caranby dies," said Jennings, hardly knowing what
to say, "and fiction isn't truth. Besides, Mr. Mallow is engaged."

"I know, sir--to Miss Saxon. Well," poor Susan sighed, "she is a sweet
young lady. I suppose he loves her."

"Devotedly. He will be married soon."

"And she's got Miss Loach's money too," sighed Susan again, "what a
lucky young lady. Handsome looks in a husband and gold galore. A poor
servant like me has to look on and keep her heart up with the Church
Service. But I tell you what, sir," she added, drying her eyes and
apparently becoming resigned, "if I ain't a lady, Senora Gredos is, and
she won't let Mr. Mallow marry Miss Saxon."

"But Mr. Mallow is not