“Perhaps—­but I have more faith in an appeal to his interests.”

“It would be dreadful if Denzil had to live henceforth at his mercy.”

“It would.  But it’s a matter of—­of life and death.”

Mrs. Wade’s voice sank on those words, shaking just a little.  She put her face nearer to Lilian’s, but without looking at her.

“Suppose no argument will prevail with him, dear?” she continued in that low, tremulous tone.  “Suppose he persists in claiming you?”

The voice had a strange effect upon Lilian’s nerves.  She shook with agitation, and drew away a little.

“He cannot!  He has no power to take me!  At the worst, we can only be driven back into solitude.”

“True, dear; but it would not be the same kind of solitude as before.  Think of the huge scandal, the utter ruin of brilliant prospects.”

Lilian lay back and moaned in anguish.  Her eyes were closed, and in that moment Mrs. Wade gazed at her for a moment only; then the widow rose from her chair, and spoke in a voice of encouragement.

“I will see him, Lily.  You remain here; I’ll call him into the dining-room.”

She stepped to the window, and saw that Northway was standing only at a little distance.  After meditating for a minute or two, she left the room very quietly, crossed the passage, and entered the room opposite, where she generally took her meals.  Here again she went to the window, and again had a good view of the man on guard.  A smile rose to her face.

Then she went out and signalled to Northway, who approached in an embarrassed way, doing his best to hold his head up and look dignified.  Mrs. Wade regarded him with contemptuous amusement, but was careful to show nothing of this; her face and tone as she greeted him expressed more than civility—­all but deference.

“Will you do me the kindness to enter for a few minutes, Mr. Northway?”

He doffed his hat, smiled sourly, and followed her into the little dining-room.  But as she was closing the door, he interfered.

“Excuse me—­I don’t want that lady to go away until I have seen her again.”

Mrs. Wade none the less closed the door, holding herself with imperturbable politeness.

“She is resting in the next room.  I give you my word, Mr. Northway, that you will find her there when our conversation is over.”

He looked about him with sullen uneasiness, but could not resist this lady’s manner.

“Pray sit down.  Quite a spring day, isn’t it?”

Her tone was melancholy, tempered with the consideration of a hostess.  Northway seated himself much as if he were in church.  He tried to examine Mrs. Wade’s face, but could not meet her look.  She, in the meantime, had got the young man’s visage by heart, had studied the meaning of every lineament—­narrow eyes, sunken cheeks, forehead indicative of conceited intelligence, lips as clearly expressive of another characteristic.  Here, at all events, was a creature she could manage—­an instrument—­though to what purpose she was not yet perfectly clear.