him, he would respond in kind; in
hitting on this idea she commended herself for a sagacity in questions of
emotion not less than that which Dick Benyon had shown in matters of the
intellect. Dick had discovered Quisante, as he thought; May told herself
that he had discovered only half of Quisante, and that the other half had
been left for her to explore, and to reveal to the world. The effect of
her various conversations was rather to confirm her in her inclination
towards Quisante than to frighten her out of it.

There was one talk which she could not escape and had to face with what
resolution she might. Weston Marchmont was not content with the brief
dismissal which had reached him from Ashwood, and he was amazed beyond
understanding at the hint of its cause which Dick Benyon had given him.
He had no doubt some reason to think himself ill-used, but he was not
inclined to press that side of the case. It was not his own failure so
much as the threatened success of such a rival that staggered and
horrified him. Few are wide-minded enough to feel a friendship quite
untouched and unimpaired when their friend takes into equal intimacy a
third person for whom they themselves entertain aversion or contempt; at
the best they see in such conduct an unexpected failure of discernment;
very often they detect in it evidence of a startling coarseness of
feeling, an insensibility, and a grossness of taste difficult to tolerate
in one to whom they have given their affection. Marchmont felt that, if
May Gaston wronged him, she was wronging far more herself, and most of
all his ideal of her. He could not believe such a thing of her without
her own plain assurance, and would not suffer it until every effort to
redeem and rescue her was exhausted.

"You don't mean," he said at last openly and bluntly to Dick Benyon,
"that you think it's possible she'll marry him?"

"I do, quite," groaned poor Dick. "You can imagine how I feel about it;
and if I didn't see it myself, Amy would soon let me know it."

Marchmont said no more, feeling that discussion was difficult for one in
his position, but Dick did not spare him a description of what had
happened at Ashwood, from which he realised the gravity of the danger.

"After all, he's a very remarkable man," Dick pleaded, in a forlorn
effort at defending himself no less than the lady.

Marchmont found May in a mood most favourable to the cause he had at
heart, if he had known how to use his o