‘C’est selon,’ said Lady Maulevrier.  ’One would not despise a Chatham or a Wellington because of the newness of his title; but a man who has only money to recommend him——­’

Lady Maulevrier left her sentence unfinished, save by a shrug; while Mary made another wry face.  She had that grand contempt for sordid wealth which is common to young people who have never known the want of money.

‘I hope Lesbia will marry some one better than Mr. Smithson,’ she said.

’I hope so too, dear; and yet do you know I have an idea that Lesbia means to accept Mr. Smithson, or she would hardly have consented to go to his house for the Henley week.  Here is a letter from Georgie Kirkbank which you will have to answer for me to-morrow—­a letter full of raptures about Mr. Smithson’s place in Berkshire, Rood Hall.  I remember the house well.  I was there nearly fifty years ago, when the Heronvilles owned it; and now the Heronvilles are all dead or ruined, and this city person is master of the fine old mansion.  It is a strange world, Mary.’

From that time forward Mary and her grandmother were on more confidential terms, and when, two days later, Fellside was startled into life by the unexpected arrival of Lord Maulevrier and Mr. Hammond, the dowager seemed almost as pleased as her granddaughter at the arrival of the young men.

As for Mary, she was almost beside herself with joy when she heard their voices from the lawn, and, rushing to the shrubbery, saw them walk up the hill, as she had seen them on that first evening nearly a year ago, when John Hammond came as a stranger to Fellside.

She tried to take her joy soberly, though her eyes were dancing with delight, as she went to the porch to meet them.

‘What extraordinary young men you are,’ she said, as she emerged breathless from her lover’s embrace.  ’The idea of your descending upon us without a moment’s notice.  Why did you not write or telegraph, that your rooms might be ready?’

’Am I to understand that all the spare rooms at Fellside are kept as damp as at the bottom of the lake?’ asked Maulevrier.

’I did not think any preparation was necessary; but we can go back if we’re not wanted, can’t we, Jack?’

‘You darling,’ cried Mary, hanging affectionately upon her brother’s arm.  ’You know I was only joking, you know how enraptured I am to have you.’

‘To have me, only me,’ said Maulevrier.  ’Jack doesn’t count, I suppose?’

‘You know how glad I am, and that I want to hide my gladness,’ answered Mary, radiant and blushing like the rich red roses in the porch.  ’You men are so vain.  And now come and see grandmother, she will be cheered by your arrival.  She has been so good to me just lately, so sweet.’

‘She might have been good and sweet to you all your life,’ said Hammond.  ’I am not prepared to be grateful to her at a moment’s notice for any crumbs of affection she may throw you.’