“But what do you think he’s coming for?”

“To see you, I suppose.”

“On the contrary.  To see you.”

“Pray don’t be absurd.”

“It’s gospel truth, and very serious.  He is in love with you.  No—­wait, please.  You must forgive my speaking of it.  But you ought to know.”

“Father Stafford?”

“No other.”

“But he—­he’s not going to marry anybody.  He’s taken a vow.”

“Yes.  He’s going to break it—­if you’ll help him.”

“You wouldn’t make fun of this.  Is it true?”

“Yes, it’s desperately true.  Now, I’m not going to tell you any more, or say anything more about it.  He’ll come and plead his own cause.  If you’d treated me differently, I might have stopped him.  As it is, he must come now.”

“Why do you assume I don’t want him to come?”

“I assume nothing.  I don’t know whether you’ll make him happy or treat him as you’ve treated me.”

“I shan’t treat him as I’ve treated you, Eugene; is he—­is he very unhappy about it?”

“Yes, poor devil!” said Eugene bitterly.  “He’s ready to give up this world and the next for you.”

“You think that strange?”

Eugene shook his head with a smile.

    “’A man had given all other bliss
    And all his worldly worth,’”

he quoted.  “Stafford would give more than that.  Good-morning, Lady Claudia.”

“Good-by,” she said.  “When is he coming?”

“To-day, I expect.”

“Thank you.”

“Claudia, if you take him, you’ll let me know?”

“Yes, yes.”

She seemed so absent and troubled that he left her without more, and made his way to his horse and down the drive, without giving a thought to the contingent lunch.

“She’ll marry me if she doesn’t marry him,” he thought.  “But, I say, I did make rather an ass of myself!” And he laughed gently and ruefully over Claudia’s wrath and his own method of wooing.  He would have laughed much the same gentle and rueful laugh over his own hanging, had such an unreasonable accident befallen him.

So far as the main subject of the interview was concerned, Claudia was well pleased with herself.  Her indignation had responded very satisfactorily to her call upon it and had enabled her to work off on Eugene her resentment, not only for his own sins, but also for annoyances for which he could not fairly be held responsible.  A patient lover must be a most valuable safety-valve.  And although Eugene was not the most patient of his kind, Claudia did not think that she had put more upon him than he was able to bear—­certainly not more than he deserved to bear.  She would have dearly loved the luxury of refusing him, and although she had not been able to make up her mind to this extreme measure, she had, at least, succeeded in infusing a spice of difficulty into his wooing.  She was so content with the aspect of affairs in this