o him.'

'But I shall. Why should I not write if he can tell me? If this other
man is a villain am I not bound to protect you? Of course Felix is not
steady. If it came only from him you might not credit it. And he has
not seen her. If your cousin Roger tells you that it is true,--tells
me that he knows the man is engaged to marry this woman, then I
suppose you will be contented.'

'Contented, mamma!'

'Satisfied that what we tell you is true.'

'I shall never be contented again. If that is true, I will never
believe anything. It can't be true. I suppose there is something, but
it can't be that.'

The story was not altogether displeasing to Lady Carbury, though it
pained her to see the agony which her daughter suffered. But she had
no wish that Paul Montague should be her son-in-law, and she still
thought that if Roger would persevere he might succeed. On that very
night before she went to bed she wrote to Roger, and told him the
whole story. 'If,' she said, 'you know that there is such a person as
Mrs Hurtle, and if you know also that Mr Montague has promised to make
her his wife, of course you will tell me.' Then she declared her own
wishes, thinking that by doing so she could induce Roger Carbury to
give such real assistance in this matter that Paul Montague would
certainly be driven away. Who could feel so much interest in doing
this as Roger, or who be so closely acquainted with all the
circumstances of Montague's life? 'You know,' she said, 'what my
wishes are about Hetta, and how utterly opposed I am to Mr Montague's
interference. If it is true, as Felix says, that he is at the present
moment entangled with another woman, he is guilty of gross insolence;
and if you know all the circumstances you can surely protect us,--and
also yourself.'

CHAPTER LXVIII - MISS MELMOTTE DECLARES HER PURPOSE

Poor Hetta passed a very bad night. The story she had heard seemed to
be almost too awful to be true,--even about any one else. The man had
come to her, and had asked her to be his wife,--and yet at that very
moment was living in habits of daily intercourse with another woman
whom he had promised to marry! And then, too, his courtship with her
had been so graceful, so soft, so modest, and yet so long continued!
Though he had been slow in speech, she had known since their first
meeting how he regarded her! The whole state of his mind had, she had
thought, been visible to her,--had been intelligible, gentle, an