“I hope, Miss Mallory, you won’t think of giving them up,” said Hugh, with vigor.  “It will be an excellent thing for Lavery.”

Mrs. Roughsedge, as the habitual peacemaker of the village, said hastily that Dr. Roughsedge should talk to the Vicar.  Of course, he must not be allowed to do anything so foolish as to withdraw from the Club, or the Miss Bertrams either.”

“Oh! my goodness,” cried Diana, hiding her face—­and then raising it, crimson.  “The Miss Bertrams, too!  Why, it’s only six weeks since I first came to this place, and now I’m setting it by the ears!”

Her aspect of mingled mirth and dismay had in it something so childish and disarming that Mrs. Roughsedge could only wish the Vicar had been there to see.  His heretical parishioner fell into meditation.

“What can I do?  If I could only be sure that he would never say things like that to me again—­”

“But he will!” said Captain Roughsedge.  “Don’t give in, Miss Mallory.”

“Ah!” said Mrs. Roughsedge, as the door opened, “shall we ask Mr. Marsham?”

Diana turned with a startled movement.  It was evident that Marsham was not expected.  But Mrs. Roughsedge also inferred from a shrewd observation of her hostess that he was not unwelcome.  He had, in fact, looked in on his way home from hunting to give a message from his mother; that, at least, was the pretext.  Hugh Roughsedge, reading him with a hostile eye, said to himself that if it hadn’t been Lady Lucy it would have been something else.  As it happened, he was quite as well aware as his mother that Marsham’s visits to Beechcote of late had been far more frequent than mere neighborliness required.

Marsham was in hunting dress, and made his usual handsome and energetic impression.  Diana treated him with great self-possession, asking after Mr. Ferrier, who had just returned to Tallyn for the last fortnight before the opening of Parliament, and betraying to the Roughsedges that she was already on intimate terms with Lady Lucy, who was lending her patterns for her embroidery, driving over once or twice a week, and advising her about various household affairs.  Mrs. Roughsedge, who had been Diana’s first protector, saw herself supplanted—­not without a little natural chagrin.

The controversy of the moment was submitted to Marsham, who decided hotly against the Vicar, and implored Diana to stand firm.  But somehow his intervention only hastened the compunction that had already begun to work in her.  She followed the Roughsedges to the door when they departed.

“What must I do?” she said, sheepishly, to Mrs. Roughsedge.  “Write to him?”

“The Vicar?  Oh, dear Miss Mallory, the doctor will settle it.  You would-change the books?”

“Mother!” cried Hugh Roughsedge, indignantly, “we’re all bullied—­you know we are—­and now you want Miss Mallory bullied too.”

“‘Who would be free, themselves must strike the blow,’” laughed Marsham, in the background, as he stood toying with his tea beside Mrs. Colwood.