ather. When I asked her to tell me
all about Lord Maulevrier and his achievements as Governor of
Madras, she had not a word to say. So, perhaps, she draws upon her
invention a little in talking about other people, and felt herself
restrained when she came to speak of my grandfather.'

This passage in Lesbia's letter affected Lady Maulevrier as if a
scorpion had wriggled from underneath the sheet of paper. She folded the
letter, and laid it in the satin-lined box on her table, with a deep
sigh.

'Yes, she is in the world now, and she will ask questions. I have never
warned her against pronouncing her grandfather's name. There are some
who will not be so kind as Georgie Kirkbank; some, perhaps, who will
delight in humiliating her, and who will tell her the worst that can be
told. My only hope is that she will make a great marriage, and speedily.
Once the wife of a man with a high place in the world, worldlings will
be too wise to wound her by telling her that her grandfather was an
unconvicted felon.'

The die was cast. Lady Maulevrier might dread the hazard of evil
tongues, of slanderous memories; but she could not recall her consent to
Lesbia's _debut_. The girl was already launched; she had been seen and
admired. The next stage in her career must be to be wooed and won by a
worthy wooer.

CHAPTER XXI.

ON THE DARK BROW OF HELVELLYN.

While these plans were being settled, and while Lesbia's future was the
all-absorbing subject of Lady Maulevrier's thoughts, Mary contrived to
be happier than she had ever been in her life before. It was happiness
that grew and strengthened with every day; and yet there was no obvious
reason for this deep joy. Her life ran in the same familiar groove. She
walked and rode on the old pathways; she rowed on the lake she had known
from babyhood; she visited her cottagers, and taught in the village
school, just the same as of old. The change was only that she was no
longer alone; and of late the solitude of her life, the ever-present
consciousness that nobody shared her pleasures or sympathised with her
upon any point, had weighed upon her like an actual burden. Now she had
Maulevrier, who was always kind, who understood and shared almost all
her tastes, and Maulevrier's friend, who, although not given to saying
smooth things, seemed warmly interested in her pursuits and opinions. He
encouraged her to talk, although he generally took the opposite side in
every ar