people would have gladly persuaded her to leave him, for his behaviour
towards her had been particularly odious,--and they were afraid, too, I
think, that he might come to worse grief yet and make her life
unbearable. But she wouldn't. And she would have no sympathy and no
talk. I never saw her after the first year of their marriage, when she
was a most radiant and beautiful creature. But, by all accounts of her
behaviour at the time, she must be a remarkable woman. One of her family
told me that she broke with all of them. She would know nobody who would
not know him. Nor would she take money, though they were wretchedly
poor; and Dick Boyce was not squeamish. She went off to little lodgings
in the country or abroad with him without a word. At the same time, it
was plain that her life was withered. She could make one great effort;
but, according to my informant, she had no energy left for anything
else--not even to take interest in her little girl--"

Aldous made a movement.

"Suppose we talk about her?" he said rather shortly.

Lord Maxwell started and recollected himself. After a pause he said,
looking down under his spectacles at his grandson with an expression in
which discomfort strove with humour--

"I see. You think we are beating about the bush. Perhaps we are. It is
the difference between being old and being young, Aldous, my boy.
Well--now then--for Miss Boyce. How much have you seen of her?--how deep
has it gone? You can't wonder that I am knocked over. To bring that man
amongst us! Why, the hound!" cried the old man, suddenly, "we could not
even get him to come and see his father when he was dying. John had lost
his memory mostly--had forgotten, anyway, to be angry--and just _craved_
for Dick, for the only creature he had ever loved. With great difficulty
I traced the man, and tried my utmost. No good! He came when his father
no longer knew him, an hour before the end. His nerves, I understood,
were delicate--not so delicate, however, as to prevent his being present
at the reading of the will! I have never forgiven him that cruelty to
the old man, and never will!"

And Lord Maxwell began to pace the library again, by way of working off
memory and indignation.

Aldous watched him rather gloomily. They had now been discussing Boyce's
criminalities in great detail for a considerable time, and nothing else
seemed to have any power to touch--or, at any rate, to hold--Lord
Maxwell's attention. A certain d