“I shall not feel really easy till they are married,” confessed Lady Bassett.

“Ah!” The sonorous voice broke in again with friendly reproof.  “But—­pardon me—­does not that indicate a certain lack of faith, Lady Bassett?  Since the young man has been led to see that the poor girl has been so sadly compromised, surely we may trust that he will be enabled to carry out his engagement.  I consider it doubly praiseworthy that he has taken this action on his own initiative.  I may tell you in confidence that I was seriously debating with myself as to whether it were not my duty to approach him on the subject.  But the news of his engagement relieved me of all responsibility.  It is no doubt something of a sacrifice to a man of his stamp.  We can only trust that he will be duly rewarded.”

Here the shrill, feline voice suddenly made itself heard, tripping in upon the deeper tones without ceremony.

“Oh, but poor Nick!  I can’t picture him married and done for.  He has always been so gay.  Why, look at him with Daisy Musgrave!  I know for a fact that he goes there every day at least, and she refusing to receive any one else.  I call it quite scandalous.”

“My dear!  My dear!” It was Lady Bassett’s turn to reprove.  “Not quite every day surely!”

“I do assure you that isn’t the smallest exaggeration,” protested her informant.  “I had it from Mrs. Gybbon-Smythe who never misstates anything.  It was she who first told me of this engagement, and she considered that Nick was positively throwing himself away.  A mere chivalrous fad she called it, and declared that it would simply ruin his prospects.  For it is well known that married officers are almost invariably passed over by the powers that be.  And he is regarded as so promising too.  Really I am almost inclined to agree with her.  Just a little more tea, dear, if I may.  Your tea is always so delicious, and doubly so out here under the pines.”

The soft jingling of tea-cups ensued, and through it presently came Lady Bassett’s gentle tones.  They sounded as if she were smiling.

“Well, all I can say is, I was unspeakably relieved when I heard that Captain Ratcliffe had decided to treat the matter as a point of honour and marry dear Muriel.  She is a sweet girl and I am devoted to her, which made it doubly hard for me.  For I should scarcely have dared to venture, after what has happened, to ask any of my friends to receive her.  Naturally, she shrinks from speaking of that terrible time, but I understand that she spent no less than three nights alone in the mountains with him.  And that fact in itself would be more than sufficient to blight any girl’s career from a social standpoint.  I often think that the rules of our modern etiquette are very rigid, though I know well that we cannot afford to disregard them.”  Again came that soft, regretful sigh; and then in an apologetic tone, “You will say, I know, that for the good of the community this must be so, but you are great enough to make allowances for a woman’s weakness.  And I must confess that I cannot but feel the pity of it in such a case as this.”