ew's sarcasm. Her nephew, though he might in truth agree
with her, nevertheless was sarcastic. Though he was sarcastic, still
he might be made to accede to her views, because he did, in truth,
agree with her. She was eminently an intelligent woman, seeing far
into character, and she knew pretty well the real condition of her
nephew's mind, and could foresee his conduct. He would marry before
long, and might not improbably marry a girl with some money if one
could be made to come in his way, who would at the same time suit
his somewhat fastidious taste. But Ayala suited his taste, Ayala who
had not a shilling, and the Marchesa thought it only too likely that
if Ayala were released from her cage, and brought to Albury, Ayala
might become Mrs. Jonathan Stubbs. That Ayala should refuse to become
Mrs. Jonathan Stubbs did not present itself as a possibility to the
Marchesa.

So the matters were when the Marchesa and Nina returned from Stalham
to London, a promise having been given that Nina should go back to
Stalham in November, and be allowed to see the glories of a hunt. She
was not to ride to hounds. That was a matter of course, but she was
to be permitted to see what a pack of hounds was like, and of what
like were the men in their scarlet coats, and how the huntsman's horn
would sound when it should be heard among the woods and fields. It
was already decided that the Colonel should be there to meet her, and
the conspiracy was formed with the object of getting Ayala out of her
cage at the same time. Stalham was a handsome country seat, in the
county of Rufford, and Sir Harry Albury had lately taken upon himself
the duties of Master of the Rufford and Ufford United Pack. Colonel
Stubbs was to be there with his horses in November, but had, in the
meantime, been seen by Lady Albury, and had been instigated to do
something for the release of Ayala. But what could he do? It was
at first suggested that he should call at Kingsbury Crescent, and
endeavour to mollify the stony heart of Aunt Dosett. But, as he had
said himself, he would be the worst person in the world to perform
such an embassy. "I am not an Adonis, I know," he said, "nor do I
look like a Lothario, but still I am in some sort a young man, and
therefore certain to be regarded as pernicious, as dangerous and
damnable, by such a dragon of virtue as Aunt Dosett. I don't see how
I could expect to have a chance." This interview took place in London
during the latter en