ike that unless he were really ill. He has never
recovered from the results of that--accident."

Then it occurred to Mary that if the Marquis were to die, and Popenjoy
were to die, she would at once be the Marchioness of Brotherton, and
that people would say that her father had raised her to the title
by--killing the late lord. And it would be so. There was something so
horrible in this that she trembled as she thought of it. "Oh, George!"

"It is very--very sad."

"It was his fault; wasn't it? I would give all the world that he were
well; but it was his fault." Lord George was silent. "Oh, George, dear
George, acknowledge that. Was it not so? Do you not think so? Could
papa stand by and hear him call me such names as that? Could you have
done so?"

"A man should not be killed for an angry word."

"Papa did not mean to kill him!"

"I can never be reconciled to the man who has taken the life of my
brother."

"Do you love your brother better than me?"

"You and your father are not one."

"If this is to be said of him I will always be one with papa. He did it
for my sake and for yours. If they send him to prison I will go with
him. George, tell the truth about it."

"I always tell the truth," he said angrily.

"Did he not do right to protect his girl's name? I will never leave him
now; never. If everybody is against him, I will never leave him."

No good was to be got from the interview. Whatever progress Lady Sarah
may have made was altogether undone by the husband's sympathy for his
injured brother. Mary declared to herself that if there must be two
sides, if there must be a real quarrel, she could never be happy again,
but that she certainly would not now desert her father. Then she was
left alone. Ah, what would happen if the man were to die. Would any
woman ever have risen to high rank in so miserable a manner! In her
tumult of feelings she told her father everything, and was astonished
by his equanimity. "It may be so," he said, "and if so, there will be
considerable inconvenience."

"Inconvenience, papa!"

"There will be a coroner's inquest, and perhaps some kind of trial. But
when the truth comes out no English jury will condemn me."

"Who will tell the truth, papa?"

The Dean knew it all, and was well aware that there would be no one to
tell the truth on his behalf,--no one to tell it in such guise that a
jury would be entitled to accept the telling as evidence. A verdict of
manslaughter with