Miss Raeburn threw up her hands in angry amazement.

“Most forward, conceited, and ill-mannered,” she said with energy.  “I am certain she has no proper principles, and as to what her religious views may be, I dread to think of them!  If that is a specimen of the girls of the present day—­”

“My dear,” interrupted Lord Maxwell, laying a hand on her knee, “Lady Winterbourne is an old friend, a very old friend.  I think we may be frank before her, and I don’t wish you to say things you may regret.  Aldous has made up his mind to get that girl to marry him, if he can.”

Lady Winterbourne was silent, having in fact been forewarned by that odd little interview with Aldous in her own drawing-room, when he had suddenly asked her to call on Mrs. Boyce.  But she looked at Miss Raeburn.  That lady took up her knitting, laid it down again, resumed it, then broke out—­

“How did it come about?  Where have they been meeting?”

“At the Hardens mostly.  He seems to have been struck from the beginning, and now there is no question as to his determination.  But she may not have him; he professes to be still entirely in the dark.”

“Oh!” cried Miss Raeburn, with a scornful shrug, meant to express all possible incredulity.  Then she began to knit fast and furiously, and presently said in great agitation,—­

“What can he be thinking of?  She is very handsome, of course, but—­” then her words failed her.  “When Aldous remembers his mother, how can he?—­undisciplined! self-willed!  Why, she laid down the law to you, Henry, as though you had nothing to do but to take your opinions from a chit of a girl like her.  Oh! no, no; I really can’t; you must give me time.  And her father—­the disgrace and trouble of it!  I tell you, Henry, it will bring misfortune!”

Lord Maxwell was much troubled.  Certainly he should have talked to Agneta beforehand.  But the fact was he had his cowardice, like other men, and he had been trusting to the girl herself, to this beauty he heard so much of, to soften the first shock of the matter to the present mistress of the Court.

“We will hope not, Agneta,” he said gravely.  “We will hope not.  But you must remember Aldous is no boy.  I cannot coerce him.  I see the difficulties, and I have put them before him.  But I am more favourably struck with the girl than you are.  And anyway, if it comes about, we must make the best of it.”

Miss Raeburn made no answer, but pretended to set her heel, her needles shaking.  Lady Winterbourne was very sorry for her two old friends.

“Wait a little,” she said, laying her hand lightly on Miss Raeburn’s.  “No doubt with her opinions she felt specially drawn to assert herself to-day.  One can imagine it very well of a girl, and a generous girl in her position.  You will see other sides of her, I am sure you will.  And you would never—­you could never—­make a breach with Aldous.”