that was Lord George's doing. He shouldn't have
taken you off so suddenly. It wasn't your fault that the stupid man
tripped. I suppose he doesn't like Captain De Baron?"

"Don't talk about it, Mrs. Jones."

"Only that I know the world so well that what I say might, perhaps, be
of use. Of course I know that he has gone out of town."

"Yes, he has gone."

"I was so glad that you didn't go with him. People will talk, you know,
and it did look as though he were a sort of Bluebeard. Bluebeards, my
dear, must be put down. There may be most well-intentioned Bluebeards,
who have no chambers of horrors, no secrets,"--Mary thought of the
letter from Mrs. Houghton, of which nobody knew but herself,--"who
never cut off anybody's heads, but still interfere dreadfully with the
comfort of a household. Lord George is very nearly all that a man ought
to be."

"He is the best man in the world," said Mary.

"I am sure you think so. But he shouldn't be jealous, and above all he
shouldn't show that he's jealous. You were bound, I think, to stay
behind and show the world that you had nothing to fear. I suppose the
Dean counselled it?"

"Yes;--he did."

"Fathers of married daughters shouldn't often interfere, but there I
think he was right. It is much better for Lord George himself that it
should be so. There is nothing so damaging to a young woman as to have
it supposed she has had to be withdrawn from the influence of a young
man."

"It would be wicked of anybody to think so," said Mary, sobbing.

"But they must have thought so if you hadn't remained. You may be sure,
my dear, that your father was quite right. I am sorry that you cannot
make one in the dance again, because we shall have changed Lord Giblet
for Lord Augustus Grandison, and I am sure it will be done very well.
But of course I couldn't ask you to stay for it. As your departure was
fixed beforehand you ought not to stay for it. But that is very
different from being taken away in a jiffey, like some young man who is
spending more than he ought to spend, and is hurried off suddenly
nobody knows where."

Mary, when Mrs. Jones had left the house, found that upon the whole she
was thankful to her friend for what had been said. It pained her to
hear her husband described as a jealous Bluebeard; but the fact of his
jealousy had been so apparent, that in any conversation on the matter
intended to be useful so much had to be acknowledged. She, however, had
taken the stro