flooded with color, and the passion in her eyes held them steady under
Sir James's penetrating look. Through his inner mind there ran the cry:
"Pharisee!--Hypocrite!"

But he fought on.

"Lady Lucy!--your son loves this girl--remember that! And in herself you
admit that she is blameless--all that you could desire for his
wife--remember that also."

"I remember both. But I was brought up by people who never admitted that
any feeling was beyond our control or ought to be indulged--against
right and reason."

"Supposing Oliver entirely declines to take your view?--supposing he
marries Miss Mallory?"

"He will not break my heart," she said, drawing a quicker breath. "He
will get over it."

"But if he persists?"

"He must take the consequences. I cannot aid and abet him."

"And the girl herself? She has accepted him. She is young, innocent,
full of tender and sensitive feeling. Is it possible that you should not
weigh her claim against your fears and scruples?"

"I feel for her most sincerely."

Sir James suddenly threw out a restless foot, which caught Lady Lucy's
fox terrier, who was snoozing under the tea-table. He hastily
apologized, and the speaker resumed:

"But, in my opinion, she would do a far nobler thing if she regarded
herself as bound to some extent to bear her mother's burden--to pay her
mother's debt to society. It may sound harsh--but is it? Is a dedicated
life necessarily an unhappy life? Would not everybody respect and revere
her? She would sacrifice herself, as the Sister of Mercy does, or the
missionary, and she would find her reward. But to enter a family with an
unstained record, bearing with her such a name and such associations,
would be, in my opinion, a wrong and selfish act!"

Lady Lucy drew herself to her full height. In the dusk of the declining
afternoon the black satin and white ruffles of her dress, her white head
in its lace cap, her thin neck and shoulders, her tall slenderness, and
the rigidity of her attitude, made a formidable study in personality.
Sir James's whole soul rose in one scornful and indignant protest. But
he felt himself beaten. The only hope lay in Oliver himself.

He rose slowly from his chair.

"It is useless, I see, to try and argue the matter further. But I warn
you: I do not believe that Oliver will obey you, and--forgive me Lady
Lucy!--but--frankly--I hope he will not. Nor will he suffer too
severely, even if you, his mother, desert him. Miss Mallory