he common herd, the
_canaille_. You cannot help yourself. A promise to one like you is
nothing. You are tired of Loftus. This is an excuse to get out of a
bargain of which you have repented."

"It is not."

Beatrice looked at Mrs. Bertram with eyes that blazed with anger. She
walked across the room, and rang the bell. Her ring was imperious. She
stood near the bell-pull until Clara, in some trepidation, obeyed the
summons.

"Is Captain Bertram downstairs?" asked Beatrice.

"I'll inquire, Miss Meadowsweet."

"I think he is. I think you'll find him in the study. Ask him to have
the goodness to come to Mrs. Bertram's room."

Clara withdrew. Beatrice began slowly to pace up and down the floor.

"I belong to the _canaille_," she murmured. "And my father--_my_ father
is taunted because he earned his bread in trade. Mrs. Bertram, I am glad
I don't belong to your set."

Beatrice had never been so angry in all her life before. The anger of
those who scarcely ever give way to the emotion has something almost
fearful about it. Mrs. Bertram was a passionate woman, but she cowered
before the words and manner of this young girl. She had taunted
Beatrice. The country girl now was taunting her, and she shrank away in
terror.

The door was opened, and Loftus Bertram came in. Beatrice went up to him
at once.

"I have prepared the way for you, Loftus," she said. "It is your turn
now to speak. Tell your mother the truth."

"Yes, my son."

Mrs. Bertram looked up in his face. Her look was piteous; it disarmed
Beatrice; her great anger fled. She went up to the poor woman, and stood
close to her.

"Speak, Loftus," she said. "Be quick, be brave, be true. Your mother
cannot bear much. Don't keep her in suspense."

"Go out of the room, Beatrice," said Loftus. "I can tell her best
alone."

"No, I shall stay. It is right for me to stay. Now speak. Tell your
mother who you really love."

"Go on, Loftus," said Mrs. Bertram, suddenly. "You love Beatrice
Meadowsweet. She angered me, but she is a true and good girl at heart.
You love her; she is almost your bride--say that you love her."

"She is the best girl I ever met, mother."

"There, Beatrice, does not that content you?" said Mrs. Bertram.

"Hush," said Beatrice. "Listen. He has more to say. Go on,
Loftus--speak, Captain Bertram. Is Josephine not worth any effort of
courage?"

"Josephine!" Mrs. Bertram clasped her hands.

Bertram stepped forward.

"Mother, I don't l