’She first, when she had invited me to her dreary place, explained that we ought not, she feared, to lead others into temptation.  “If you think that man, de la Lain’s temptation is to drag my father’s name, and my husband’s, in the dust,” I answered, “let me tell you that I have a temptation also.”

’"Dear Mrs. Brown-Smith,” she answered, “this is indeed honourable candour.  Not for the world would I be the occasion—­”

’I interrupted her, “My temptation is to make him the laughing stock of his acquaintance, and, if he has the impudence to give me the opportunity, I will!” And then I told her, without names, of course, that story about this Vidame Potter and Violet Lebas.’

‘I did not,’ said Merton.  ‘But why Vidame Potter?’

’His father was a Mr. Potter; his grandfather married a Miss Lalain—­I know all about it—­and this creature has wormed out, or invented, some story of a Vidameship, or whatever it is, hereditary in the female line, and has taken the title.  And this is the man who has had the impertinence to talk about me, a Ker of Graden.’

’But did not the story you speak of make her see that she must break off her daughter’s engagement?’

’No.  She was very much distressed, but said that her daughter Matilda would never believe it.’

‘And so you are to go to Upwold?’

’Yes, it is a mournful place; I never did anything so good-natured.  And, with the widow’s knowledge, I am to do as I please till the girl’s eyes are opened.  I think it will need that stratagem we spoke of to open them.’

‘You are sure that you will be in no danger from evil tongues?’

‘They say, What say they?  Let them say,’ answered Mrs. Brown-Smith, quoting the motto of the Keiths.

The end of July found Mrs. Brown-Smith at Upwold, where it is to be hoped that the bracing qualities of the atmosphere made up for the want of congenial society.  Susan Malory had been discreetly sent away on a visit.  None of the men of the family had arrived.  There was a party of local neighbours, who did not feel the want of anything to do, but lived in dread of flushing the Vidame and Matilda out of a window seat whenever they entered a room.

As for the Vidame, being destitute of all other entertainment, he made love in a devoted manner.

But at dinner, after Mrs. Brown-Smith’s arrival, though he sat next Matilda, Mrs. Malory saw that his eyes were mainly bent on the lady opposite.  The ping-pong of conversation, even, was played between him and Mrs. Brown-Smith across the table:  the county neighbours were quite lost in their endeavours to follow the flight of the ball.  Though the drawing-room window, after dinner, was open on the fragrant lawn, though Matilda sat close by it, in her wonted place, the Vidame was hanging over the chair of the visitor, and later, played billiards with her, a game at which Matilda did not excel.