“Not improbably,” interrupted Mr. Carr, significantly.

“‘Oh, you two dear turtle-doves,’ cried she, ’Hartledon, you have made me so happy!  I have seen for some weeks what you were thinking of.  There’s nobody living I’d confide that dear child to but yourself:  you shall have her, and my blessing shall be upon you both.’

“Carr,” continued poor Val, “I was struck dumb.  All the absurdity of the thing rose up before me.  In my confusion I could not utter a word.  A man with more moral courage might have spoken out; acknowledged the shame and folly of his conduct and apologized.  I could not.”

“Elster’s folly!  Elster’s folly!” thought the barrister.  “You never had the slightest spark of moral courage,” he observed aloud, in pained tones.  “What did you say?”

“Nothing.  There’s the worst of it.  I neither denied the dowager’s assumption, nor confirmed it.  Of course I cannot now.”

“When was this?”

“In December.”

“And how have things gone on since?  How do you stand with them?”

“Things have gone on as they went on before; and I stand engaged to Maude, in her mother’s opinion; perhaps in hers:  never having said myself one word to support the engagement.”

“Only continued to ‘make love,’ and ‘snatch a kiss,’” sarcastically rejoined Mr. Carr.

“Once in a way.  What is a man to do, exposed to the witchery of a pretty girl?”

“Oh, Percival!  You are worse than I thought for.  Where is Miss Ashton?”

“Coming home next Friday,” groaned Val.  “And the dowager asked me yesterday whether Maude and I had arranged the time for our marriage.  What on earth I shall do, I don’t know.  I might sail for some remote land and convert myself into a savage, where I should never be found or recognized; there’s no other escape for me.”

“How much does Miss Ashton know of this?”

“Nothing.  I had a letter from her this morning, more kindly than her letters have been of late.”

“Lord Hartledon!” exclaimed Mr. Carr, in startled tones.  “Is it possible that you are carrying on a correspondence with Miss Ashton, and your love-making with Lady Maude?”

Val nodded assent, looking really ashamed of himself.

“And you call yourself a man of honour!  Why, you are the greatest humbug—­”

“That’s enough; no need to sum it up.  I see all I’ve been.”

“I understood you to imply that your correspondence with Miss Ashton had ceased.”

“It was renewed.  Dr. Ashton came up to preach one Sunday, just before Christmas, and he and I got friendly again; you know I never can be unfriendly with any one long.  The next day I wrote to Anne, and we have corresponded since; more coolly though than we used to do.  Circumstances have been really against me.  Had they continued at Ventnor, I should have gone down and spent my Christmas with them, and nothing of this would have happened; but they must needs go to Dr. Ashton’s sister’s in Yorkshire for Christmas; and there they are still.  It was in that miserable Christmas week that the mischief occurred.  And now you have the whole, Carr.  I know I’ve been a fool; but what is to be done?”