sing him from the house, and
you from your farm. It will kill me, and the money I intended for
Reginald I shall leave to Compton."

"These are idle words, my lady. You daren't."

"I dare anything when once I make up my mind to die."

She rang the bell.

Mary Meyrick affected contempt.

A servant came to the door.

"Request Sir Charles to come to me immediately."

CHAPTER XLIV.

"DON'T you be a fool," said Reginald to his nurse.

"Sir Charles will send you to prison for it," said Lady Bassett.

"For what I done along with you?"

"Oh, he will not punish his wife; he will look out for some other
victim."

"Sign, you d--d old fool!" cried Reginald, seizing Mary Meyrick roughly
by the arm.

Strange to say, Lady Bassett interfered, with a sort of majestic
horror. She held up her hand, and said, "Do not dare to lay a finger on
her!"

Then Mary burst into tears, and said she would sign the paper.

While she was signing it, Sir Charles's step was heard in the corridor.

He knocked at the door just as she signed. Reginald had signed already.

Lady Bassett put the paper into the manuscript book, and the book into
the bureau, and said "Come in," with an appearance of composure belied
by her beating heart.

"Here is Mrs. Meyrick, my dear."

In those few seconds so perfect a liar as Mary Meyrick had quite
recovered herself.

"If you please, sir," said she, "I be come to ast if you will give us a
new lease, for ourn it is run out."

"You had better talk to the steward about that."

"Very well, sir," and she made her courtesy.

Reginald remained, not knowing exactly what to do.

"My dear," said Lady Bassett, "Reginald has come to bid us good-by. He
is going to visit Mr. Rolfe, and take his advice, if you have no
objection."

"None whatever; and I hope he will treat it with more respect than he
does mine."

Reginald shrugged his shoulders, and was going out, when Lady Bassett
said, "Won't you kiss me, Reginald, as you are going away?"

He came to her: she kissed him, and whispered in his ear, "Be true to
me, as I will be to you."

Then he left her, and she felt like a dead thing, with exhaustion. She
lay on the sofa, and Sir Charles sat beside her, and made her drink a
glass of wine.

She lay very still that afternoon; but at night she slept: a load was
off her mind for the present.

Next day she was so much better she came down to dinner.

What she now hoped was, that entire separation,