dy Caroline's voice sank to a whisper. "Some very unpleasant
things have been said about Mrs. Brand. Nobody calls on her. I am very
sorry for her, poor thing, but what could one do? I would not set foot
in the house while she was in it--I really would not. Mr. Brand ought to
send her away."

"But what has she done, mamma?"

"There is no necessity for you to hear, Margaret. I like your mind to be
kept innocent of evil, dear. Surely it is enough if I tell you that
there is something wrong."

The girl was silent for a minute or two: she was beginning to feel
abashed and ashamed. It was in a very low voice that she said at last--

"Mr. Brand would probably find another home for her if he married."

"Oh, most likely. But I do not know that what he would do affects us
particularly. He is quite a poor man: even his family is not very good,
although it is an old one, and it has been the proverb of the
country-side for dissipation and extravagance for upwards of a century."

"But if he had quite reformed," Margaret murmured.

"My darling, what difference would it make? I am sure I do not know why
we discuss the matter: it is a little too ridiculous to speak of it
seriously. Your father will give Mr. Wyvis Brand his answer, and in such
a way that he will not care to repeat his presumptuous and insolent
proposal, and there will be an end of it. I hope, dearest, you have not
been annoyed by the man? I heard something of his pursuing you with his
attentions at Lady Ashley's party."

"Mamma," said Margaret, in a tragic tone, "this must not go on. You must
not speak to me as you are doing now. You do not understand the position
of affairs at all. I----"

"I beg your pardon, darling--one moment. Will you give me that palm-leaf
fan from the mantel-piece? It is really rather a hot morning. Thanks,
dear. What was it you were saying?"

Lady Caroline knew the value of an adroit interruption. She had checked
the flow of Margaret's indignation for the moment, and was well aware
that the girl would not probably begin her speech in quite the same tone
a second time. At the same time she saw that she had given her daughter
a momentary advantage. Margaret did not reseat herself after handing her
mother the fan--she remained standing, a pale, slender figure, somewhat
impressive in the shadows of the half-darkened room, with hands clasped
and head slightly lifted as if in solemn protest.

"Mamma," she began, in a somewhat subdued voice,