‘That woman!’

‘She is not her mother.’

’Who knows how far she will think herself bound to obedience?  With that sort of relationship, nobody knows what to be at.’

’I don’t think Isabel wishes to make her duty to Lady Conway more stringent than necessary.  They live in utterly different spheres; and, at least, you can be no worse off than you are already.’

’I may be exposing her to annoyance.  Women have ten million ways of persecuting each other.’

’Had you seen Isabel’s eye when she looked on the wild crowd, you would know how little she would heed worse persecution than my poor aunt could practise.  It will soon be my turn to say you don’t deserve her.’

James was arguing against his own impulse, and his scruples only desired to be talked down; Louis’s generous and inconsiderate ardour prevailed, and, after interminable discussion, it was agreed that, after some communication with the young lady herself, an interview should be sought with Lady Conway, for which James was already bristling, prepared to resent scorn with scorn.

In the morning, he was savage with shamefacedness, could not endure any spectator, and fairly hunted his cousin home to Ormersfield, where Louis prowled about in suspense—­gave contradictory orders to Frampton, talked as if he was asleep, made Frampton conclude that he had left his heart behind him, and was ever roaming towards the Northwold turnpike.

At about four o’clock, a black figure was seen posting along the centre of the road, and, heated, panting, and glowing, James came up--made a decided and vehement nod with his head, but did not speak till they had turned into the park, when he threw himself flat on the grass under an old thorn, and Louis followed his example, while Farmer Morris’s respectable cows stared at the invasion of their privacy.

‘Tout va bien?’ asked Louis.

’As well as a man in my position can expect!  She is the most noble of created beings, Louis!’

‘And what is her mother?’

’Don’t call her mother!  You shall hear.  I could not stay at home!  I went to the Faithfulls’ room:  I found Miss Mercy waiting for her, to join in a walk to some poor person.  I went with them.  I checked her when she was going into the cottage.  We have been walking round Brackley’s fields—­’

‘And poor Miss Mercy?’

‘Never remembered her till this moment!’

‘She will forgive!  And her ladyship?’

’That’s the worst of it.  She was nearly as bad as you could have been!—­so intensely civil and amiable, that I began to think her all on my side.  I really could be taken in to suppose she felt for us!’

’I have no doubt she did.  My good aunt is very sincerely loth to hurt people’s feelings.’

’She talked of her duty!  She sympathized!  It was not till I was out of the house that I saw it was all by way of letting me down easy-trapping me into binding myself on honour not to correspond.’