mother
looked up, but she only saw her daughter's back, as she rose hurriedly
from the table, saying that she would return in a moment. Mrs. Armour,
however, had been startled. She knew that Marion had been reading a
letter, and, with a mother's instinct, her thoughts were instantly on
Frank. She spoke quickly, almost sharply:

"Marion, come here."

Richard had risen. He came round the table, and, as the girl obeyed her
mother, took the letter from her fingers and hastily glanced over it.
Mrs. Armour came forward and took her daughter's arm. "Marion," she
said, "there is something wrong--with Frank. What is it?"

General Armour was now looking up at them all, curiously, questioningly,
through his glasses, his paper laid down, his hands resting on the
table.

Marion could not answer. She was sick with regret, vexation, and shame;
at the first flush, death--for Frank--had been preferable to this. She
had a considerable store of vanity; she was not very philosophical.
Besides, she was not married; and what Captain Vidall, her devoted
admirer and possible husband, would think of this heathenish alliance
was not a cheer ful thought to her. She choked down a sob, and waved her
hand towards Richard to answer for her. He was pale too, but cool. He
understood the case instantly; he made up his mind instantly also as to
what ought to be--must be--done.

"Well, mother," he said, "it is about Frank. But he is all right; that
is, he is alive and well-in body. But he has arranged a hateful little
embarrassment for us--he is married."

"Married!" exclaimed his mother faintly. "Oh, poor Lady Agnes!"

Marion sniffed a little viciously at this.

"Married? Married?" said his father. "Well, what about it? eh? what
about it?"

The mother wrung her hands. "Oh, I know it is something
dreadful--dreadful! He has married some horrible wild person, or
something."

Richard, miserable as he was, remained calm. "Well," said he, "I don't
know about her being horrible. Frank is silent on that point; but she is
wild enough--a wild Indian, in fact."

"Indian? Indian? Good God--a red nigger!" cried General Armour harshly,
starting to his feet.

"An Indian? a wild Indian?" Mrs. Armour whispered faintly, as she
dropped into a chair.

"And she'll be here in two or three days," fluttered Marion
hysterically.

Meanwhile Richard had hastily picked up the Times. "She is due here the
day after to-morrow," he said deliberately. "Frank is as d