“May I inquire on my side, ma’am, in what way that errand can possibly concern me?” retorted Mrs. Lecount.

“Certainly,” said Magdalen.  “I come to you because Mr. Noel Vanstone’s intentions toward the two young ladies were made known to them in the form of a letter from yourself.”

That plain answer had its effect.  It warned Mrs. Lecount that the strange lady was better informed than she had at first suspected, and that it might hardly be wise, under the circumstances, to dismiss her unheard.

“Pray pardon me,” said the housekeeper, “I scarcely understood before; I perfectly understand now.  You are mistaken, ma’am, in supposing that I am of any importance, or that I exercise any influence in this painful matter.  I am the mouth-piece of Mr. Noel Vanstone; the pen he holds, if you will excuse the expression—­nothing more.  He is an invalid, and like other invalids, he has his bad days and his good.  It was his bad day when that answer was written to the young person—­shall I call her Miss Vanstone?  I will, with pleasure, poor girl; for who am I to make distinctions, and what is it to me whether her parents were married or not?  As I was saying, it was one of Mr. Noel Vanstone’s bad days when that answer was sent, and therefore I had to write it; simply as his secretary, for want of a better.  If you wish to speak on the subject of these young ladies—­shall I call them young ladies, as you did just now? no, poor things, I will call them the Misses Vanstone.—­If you wish to speak on the subject of these Misses Vanstone, I will mention your name, and your object in favoring me with this call, to Mr. Noel Vanstone.  He is alone in the parlor, and this is one of his good days.  I have the influence of an old servant over him, and I will use that influence with pleasure in your behalf.  Shall I go at once?” asked Mrs. Lecount, rising, with the friendliest anxiety to make herself useful.

“If you please,” replied Magdalen; “and if I am not taking any undue advantage of your kindness.”

“On the contrary,” rejoined Mrs. Lecount, “you are laying me under an obligation—­you are permitting me, in my very limited way, to assist the performance of a benevolent action.”  She bowed, smiled, and glided out of the room.

Left by herself, Magdalen allowed the anger which she had suppressed in Mrs. Lecount’s presence to break free from her.  For want of a nobler object to attack, it took the direction of the toad.  The sight of the hideous little reptile sitting placid on his rock throne, with his bright eyes staring impenetrably into vacancy, irritated every nerve in her body.  She looked at the creature with a shrinking intensity of hatred; she whispered at it maliciously through her set teeth.  “I wonder whose blood runs coldest,” she said, “yours, you little monster, or Mrs. Lecount’s?  I wonder which is the slimiest, her heart or your back?  You hateful wretch, do you know what your mistress is?  Your mistress is a devil!”