e of the body felt
that one half of her was already dead. But months had gone by, and Louis
Asoph had made no sign. She began to hope that his boasted documents and
witnesses were altogether mythical. And yet the engines of the law are
slow to put in motion. He might be working up his case, line upon line,
with some hard-headed London lawyer; arranging and marshalling his
facts; preparing his witnesses; waiting for affidavits from India;
working slowly but surely, underground like the mole; and all at once,
in an hour, his case might be before the law courts. His story and the
story of Lord Maulevrier's infamy might be town talk again; as it had
been forty years ago, when the true story of that crime had been happily
unknown.

Yes, with the present fear of this Louis Asoph's revelations, of a new
scandal, if not a calamity, Lady Maulevrier felt that it was a good
thing to have her younger granddaughter's future in some measure
secured. John Hammond had said of himself to Lesbia that he was not the
kind of man to fail, and looking at him critically to-day Lady
Maulevrier saw the stamp of power and dauntless courage in his
countenance and bearing. It is the inner mind of a man which moulds the
lines of his face and figure; and a man's character may be read in the
way he walks and holds himself, the action of his hand, his smile, his
frown, his general outlook, as clearly as in any phrenological
development. John Hammond had a noble outlook: bold, without impudence
or self-assertion; self-possessed, without vanity. Yes, assuredly a man
to wrestle with difficulty, and to conquer fate.

When that little tea-drinking was over and Maulevrier and his friend
were going away to dress for dinner, Lady Maulevrier detained Mary for a
minute or two by her couch. She took her by the hand with unaccustomed
tenderness.

'My child, I congratulate you,' she said. 'Last night I thought you a
fool, but I begin to think that you are wiser than Lesbia. You have won
the heart of a noble young man.'

CHAPTER XXIII.

'A YOUNG LAMB'S HEART AMONG THE FULL-GROWN FLOCKS.'

For three most happy days Mary rejoiced in her lover's society,
Maulevrier was with them everywhere, by brookside and fell, on the lake,
in the gardens, in the billiard-room, playing propriety with admirable
patience. But this could not last for ever. A man who has to win name
and fortune and a home for his young wife cannot spend all his days in
the primrose path.