two, when things are in order, we must
have Breakspeare here. Perhaps you had better go away for the day of
Robb's funeral. Yes, don't be seen about on that day. Spare no useful
expense; I give you a free hand. Only win; that's all I ask of you. I
shan't like it if you're beaten by jams and pickles. And lunch here on
Thursday--you understand?"

Dyce had never known the old autocrat so babblingly iterative. Nor had
he ever beheld her in such a mood of gaiety, of exultation.

"Go and have a word with Constance," she said at length. "I rather
think she's going into the town; if so, you can go together. She's in
great spirits. It isn't her way to talk much, but I can see she feels
very hopeful. By the bye, I'm expecting Sir William before dinner--Sir
William Amys, you know. He may be here still when you come on Thursday."

Why Lady Ogram should be so careful to conceal the fact' that Lord
Dymchurch was expected, Dyce found it difficult to understand. But it
was clear that Dymchurch had been invited in the hope, perhaps the
certainty, that he would propose to May Tomalin. That he was coming at
all seemed, indeed, decisive as to his intentions. Plainly, the old
schemer had formed this project at the time of her visit to London,
and, improbable as the thing would have appeared to any one knowing
Dymchurch, she was carrying it successfully through. On the one side;
but how about May? Dyce tried to assure himself that, being in love
with _him_, May would vainly be wooed by anyone else. But had she the
courage to hold out against her imperious relative? Could she safely do
so? The situation was extremely disquieting. He wished it were possible
to see May alone, even for a minute. But he did not see her at all,
and, as Lady Ogram had suggested, he found himself obliged to return to
Hollingford in Constance's company. They drove in the landau. On the
way, Dyce made known to his companion Lady Ogram's generous intentions.

"I knew she would do that," said Constance, regarding him with the
smile which betrayed her inmost thoughts.

Because of the proximity of their coachman, they talked in subdued
tones, their heads close together. To Lashmar this intimacy meant
nothing at all; Constance, in his busy thoughts, was as good as
non-existent. He had remarked with vexation the aspect of renewed
vigour presented by Lady Ogram, and would have spoken of it, but that
he felt ashamed to do so.

"Don't you think," asked his companion, "t