e, is to bribe him to take her."

The Duchess remained bland, but she fixed him. "You say that as if you
were scandalised, but if you try Mr. Van with it I don't think he'll
be. And you won't persuade me," she went on finely, "that you haven't
yourself thought of it." She kept her eyes on him, and the effect of
them, soon enough visible in his face, was such as presently to make her
exult at her felicity. "You're of a limpidity, dear man--you've only
to be said 'bo!' to and you confess. Consciously or unconsciously--the
former, really, I'm inclined to think--you've wanted him for her." She
paused an instant to enjoy her triumph, after which she continued: "And
you've wanted her for him. I make you out, you'll say--for I see you
coming--one of those horrible benevolent busy-bodies who are the worst
of the class, but you've only to think a little--if I may go so far--to
see that no 'making' at all is required. You've only one link with the
Brooks, but that link is golden. How can we, all of us, by this time,
not have grasped and admired the beauty of your feeling for Lady Julia?
There it is--I make you wince: to speak of it is to profane it. Let us
by all means not speak of it then, but let us act on it." He had at last
turned his face from her, and it now took in, from the vantage of his
high position, only the loveliness of the place and the hour, which
included a glimpse of Lord Petherton and little Aggie, who, down in
the garden, slowly strolled in familiar union. Each had a hand in the
other's, swinging easily as they went; their talk was evidently of
flowers and fruits and birds; it was quite like father and daughter.
One could see half a mile off in short that THEY weren't flirting. Our
friend's bewilderment came in odd cold gusts: these were unreasoned and
capricious; one of them, at all events, during his companion's pause,
must have roared in his ears. Was it not therefore through some
continuance of the sound that he heard her go on speaking? "Of course
you know the poor child's own condition."

It took him a good while to answer. "Do YOU know it?" he asked with his
eyes still away.

"If your question's ironical," she laughed, "your irony's perfectly
wasted. I should be ashamed of myself if, with my relationship and my
interest, I hadn't made sure. Nanda's fairly sick--as sick as a little
cat--with her passion." It was with an intensity of silence that he
appeared to accept this; he was even so dumb for a min