t I shall be obliged by your making them without undue delay."

"You do not mean," Theresa broke out, after an interval of speechless
amazement--"Sir Charles, you cannot mean that you dismiss me--that I am
to leave The Hard--to--to go away?"

"I mean that I have no further occasion for your services."

Theresa waved her arms as though playing some eccentric game of ball.

"You forget the servants, the conduct of the house, Damaris' need of a
chaperon, her still unfinished education--All are dependent upon me."

"Hardly dependent," he answered. "These things, I have reason to think,
can safely be trusted to other hands, or be equally safely be left to
take care of themselves."

"But why do you repudiate me?" she cried again, rushing upon her fate in
the bitterness of her distraction. "What have I done to deserve such
harshness and humiliation?"

"I gave the most precious of my possessions--Damaris--into your keeping,
and--and--well--we see the result. Is it not written large enough, in all
conscience, for the most illiterate to read?--So you must depart, my dear
Miss Bilson, and for everyone's sake, the sooner the better. There can be
no further discussion of the matter. Pray accept the fact that our
interview is closed."

But Theresa, now sensible that her chance was in act of being finally
ravished away from her, fell--or rose--perhaps more truly the
latter--into an extraordinary sincerity and primitiveness of emotion.
She cast aside nothing less than her whole personal legend, cast aside
every tradition and influence hitherto so strictly governing her conduct
and her thought. Unluckily the physical envelope could not so readily be
got rid of. Matter retained its original mould, and that one neither
seductive nor poetic.

She went down upon her fat little knees, held her fat little hands aloft
as in an impassioned spontaneity of worship.

"Sir Charles," she prayed, while tears running down her full cheeks
splashed upon her protuberant bosom--"Sir Charles"--

He looked at the funny, tubby, jaunty, would-be smart, kneeling figure.

"Oh! you inconceivably foolish woman," he said and turned away.

Did more than that--walked out into the hall and to his own rooms,
opening off the corridor. In the offices a bell tinkled. Theresa
scrambled on to her feet, just as Hordle, in response to its summons,
arrived at the sitting-room door.

"Did you ring, Miss?" he asked grudgingly. Less than ever was she in
favour wi