ou, too, girl! Have you no sense? Are you an idiot?'

'I can do nothing against my husband's wish,' Mary answered, quietly;
'and, indeed, there is no need for us to take your money. We are rich
without it. Please leave that chest to a hospital. It will be ever so
much better than giving it to us.'

'You told me you were going to marry a poor man?'

'I know. But he cheated me, and turned out to be a rich man. He was a
horrid impostor,' said Mary, drawing closer to her husband, and smiling
up at him.

The old man flung down the lid of his strong box, which shut with a
sonorous clang. He locked it, and put the key in his pocket.

'I have done with you.' he said. 'You can go your ways, both of you.
Fools, fools, fools! The world is peopled with rogues and fools; and, by
heaven, I would rather have to do with the rogues!'

He flung himself into an arm-chair, one of the few objects of furniture
in the room, and left them to find their way back alone.

'Good-night, sir,' said Lord Hartfield; but the old man made no reply.
He sat frowning sullenly.

'Good-night, sir,' said Mary, in her gentle voice, breathing infinite
pity.

'Good-night, child,' he growled. 'I am sorry you have married an ass.'

This was more than Mary could stand, and she was about to reply with
some acrimony, when her husband put his hand upon her lips and hurried
her away.

On the landing they met Mrs. Steadman, a stout, commonplace person, who
always had the same half-frightened look, as of one who lived in the
shadow of an abiding terror, obviously cowed and brow beaten by her
husband, according to the Fellside household.

At sight of Lord Hartfield and his wife she looked a little more
frightened than usual.

'Goodness gracious, Lady Mary! how ever did you come here?' she gasped,
not yet having quite realised the fact that Mary had been promoted.

'We came to please Steadman's uncle--he brought us in here,' Mary
answered, quietly.

'But where did you find him?'

'In the corridor--just by her ladyship's room.'

'Then he must have taken the key out of Steadman's pocket, or Steadman
must have left it about somewhere,' muttered Mrs. Steadman, as if
explaining the matter to herself, rather than to Mary. 'My poor husband
is not the man he was. And so you met him in the corridor, and he
brought you in here. Poor old gentleman! He gets madder and madder every
day.'

'There is method in his madness,' said Lord Hartfield. 'He talked very
muc