ived,--you, after all the care--the trouble--you
bestowed upon him. My conscience compelled me to tell you all."

"And you, Marcia,"--with an odd smile she is puzzled to
explain,--"_you_ have never deceived me, have you? All your pretty
speeches and tender cares have been quite sincere?"

"Dear grandpapa, yes."

"You have not wished me dead, or spoken or thought evilly of the old
tyrant at Herst, who has so often crossed and thwarted you?"

"Never, dear: how could I--when I remember----"

"Ay, quite so. When one remembers! And gratitude is so common a thing.
Will you oblige me by sending a line to Mr. Buscarlet, asking him to
come to me without delay?"

"You are going to alter your will?" she asks, faintly, shocked at the
speedy success of her scheme.

"Yes," coolly. "I am going to cut Philip out of it."

"Grandpapa, do not be too hard on him," she says, putting her hand
across her throat, and almost gasping. "He is young. Young men
sometimes----"

"I was once a young man myself, you seem to forget, and I know all
about it. Why did you give me that letter?" he asks, grimly. "Are you
chicken-hearted, now you have done the deed, like all women? It is too
late for remorse to be of use: you _have_ done it. Let it be your
portion to remember how you have willfully ruined his prospects."

A choking sigh escapes her as she quits the room. Truly she has bought
her revenge dearly. Not the poorest trace of sweetness lingers in it.

* * * * *

By this time it will be perceived that the house is in a secret
turmoil. Every one is at daggers drawn with every one else. Molly and
Lady Stafford have as yet exchanged no confidences, though keenly
desirous of doing so, each having noticed with the liveliest surmisings
the depression of the other.

Mr. Potts alone, who is above suspicion (being one of those cheerful
people who never see anything--no matter how closely under their
noses--until it is brought before them in the broadest language),
continues blissfully unconscious of the confusion that reigns around,
and savors his conversation throughout the evening with as many
embarrassing remarks as he can conveniently put in.

"Eaten bread is soon forgotten," says he, sententiously, during a
pause. "You all seem strangely oblivious of the fact that last night
there was a ball in this house. Why shirk the subject? I like talking,"
says Mr. Potts, superfluously, "and surely you must