Meanwhile, as he had seen Mr. Riley, he did his best to prepare her for the letters and enclosures, which had been for twenty years in the custody of the firm, and would reach her on the morrow.

But what he did not prepare her for was the letter from Lady Lucy Marsham which reached Beechcote by the evening post, after Sir James had left.

The letter lay awhile on Diana’s knee, unopened.  Muriel Colwood, glancing at her, went away with the tears in her eyes, and at last the stumbling fingers broke the seal.

“MY DEAR MISS MALLORY,—­I want you to understand why it is that I must oppose your marriage with my son.  You know well, I think, how gladly I should have welcomed you as a daughter but for this terrible revelation.  As it is, I cannot consent to the engagement, and if it is carried out Oliver must renounce the inheritance of his father’s fortune.  I do not say this as any vulgar threat.  It is simply that I cannot allow my husband’s wealth to be used in furthering what he would never have permitted.  He had—­and so have I—­the strongest feeling as to the sacredness of the family and its traditions.  He held, as I do, that it ought to be founded in mutual respect and honor, and that children should have round about them the help that comes from the memory of unstained and God-fearing ancestors.  Do you not also feel this?  Is it not a great principle, to which personal happiness and gratification may justly be sacrificed?  And would not such a sacrifice bring with it the highest happiness of all?

“Do not think that I am cruel or hard-hearted.  I grieve for you with all my soul, and I have prayed for you earnestly, though, perhaps, you will consider this mere hypocrisy.  But I must first think of my son—­and of my husband.  Very possibly you and Oliver may disregard what I say.  But if so, I warn you that Oliver is not indifferent to money, simply because the full development of his career depends on it.  He will regret what he has done, and your mutual happiness will be endangered.  Moreover, he shrinks from all painful thoughts and associations; he seems to have no power to bear them; yet how can you protect him from them?

“I beg you to be counselled in time, to think of him rather than yourself—­if, indeed, you care for him.  And should you decide rightly, an old woman’s love and gratitude will be yours as long as she lives.

     “Believe me, dear Miss Mallory, very sincerely yours,

     “LUCY MARSHAM.”

Diana dragged herself up-stairs and locked her door.  At ten o’clock Mrs. Colwood knocked, and heard a low voice asking to be left alone.  She went away wondering, in her astonishment and terror, what new blow had fallen.  No sound reached her during the night—­except the bluster of a north wind rushing in great gusts upon the hill-side and the woods.

CHAPTER XIV