Mrs. Willoughby gave Hawbury a look of astonishment and reproach.

“You!” she cried; “and Ethel!”

“Why, I’m sure, we’re the very ones you might expect it from.  Think how infernally we’ve been humbugged by fate.”

“Fate!” said Mrs. Willoughby.  “It was all your own fault.  She was chosen for you.”

“Chosen for me?  What do you mean?”

“By your mother.”

“My mother?”

“Yes.”

“She said one of Biggs’s nieces.”

“Ethel is that niece.”

“The devil!” cried Hawbury.  “I beg pardon.  By Jove!”

Hawbury, overwhelmed by this, went back to Ethel, and they wandered off once more.  The Baron had already wandered off with Minnie in another direction.  Tozer and the priest had gone to survey the house.

Seeing Mrs. Willoughby thus left alone, Dacres drifted up to her.  He came up silently.

“Kitty,” said he, in a low voice, “you seem sad.”

By which familiar address it will be seen that Dacres had made some progress toward intimacy with her.

Mrs. Willoughby did not seem at all offended at this, but looked up with one of her frankest smiles, and the clouds of perplexity passed away.  She was an exceedingly pretty woman, and she was certainly not over twenty-four.

“I’m so worried,” she said, plaintively.

“What’s the matter?” asked Dacres, in a tone of the deepest and tenderest sympathy.

“Why, these horrid men; and, what’s worse, Lord Hawbury is actually encouraging Mr.—­the—­the Baron; and I’m so worried.  Oh dear!”

“But why should you be worried?”

“It’s so horrid.  It’s shocking.  It’s not to be thought of.”

“But why not?” asked Dacres.

“Why, it’s—­it’s so horrid,” said Mrs. Willoughby.

Dacres stood looking at her for a long time.

“Kitty,” said he at last.

Mrs. Willoughby looked up.

Dacres looked all around.  He then took her hand.

“Isn’t it too bad,” he said, “to let Minnie—­”

“What?”

“To let her go through this ordeal alone?”

“Alone!” exclaimed Mrs. Willoughby, looking in wonder at him.

“Yes.”

“What do you mean?”

“Couldn’t we accompany her?”

Mrs. Willoughby snatched away her hand.

“Are you mad?” she cried.  “I do believe the whole world’s mad to-day.”

“Mad!” cried Dacres.  “Yes, I’m mad—­insane—­raving!  Won’t you be merciful again?  Won’t you, Kitty?  Won’t you ‘humor’ my ravings?  Oh, do.  Oh, Kitty! dear Kitty—!”

“It’s positive insanity!”

“Oh, Kitty!”

“You’re raving!”

“Won’t you ‘humor’ me—­just this once! only this once.”

“Hush! there they come,” said Mrs. Willoughby, suddenly snatching away her hand, which Dacres had somehow got hold of again, and moving a little further away from him.