whereon to form a judgment?  It might be that her mother’s arraignment of Glazzard was grounded in truth, but how could she determine one way or the other?  On the whole, she liked him better than when she promised to marry him—­yes, she liked him better; she did rot shrink from the thought of wedlock with him.  He was a highly educated and clever man; he offered her a prospect of fuller life than she had yet imagined; perhaps it was a choice between him and the ordinary husband such as fell to Polterham girls.  Yet again, if he did not really care for her—­only for her money?

She remembered Denzil Quarrier’s lecture on “Woman,” and all he had said about the monstrously unfair position of girls who are asked in marriage by men of the world.  And thereupon an idea came into her mind.  Presently she had dried her tears, and in half-an-hour’s time she left the house.

Her purpose was to call upon Mrs. Quarrier, whom she had met not long ago at Highmead.  But the lady was not at home.  After a moment of indecision, she wrote on the back of her visiting card:  “Will you be so kind as to let me know when I could see you?  I will come at any hour.”

It was then midday.  In the afternoon she received a note, hand-delivered.  Mrs. Quarrier would be at home from ten to twelve the next morning.

Again she called, and Lilian received her in the small drawing-room.  They locked at each other with earnest faces, Lilian wondering whether this visit had anything to do with the election.  Serena was nervous, and could not reply composedly to the ordinary phrases of politeness with which she was received.  And yet the phrases were not quite ordinary; whomsoever she addressed, Lilian spoke with a softness, a kindness peculiar to herself, and chose words which seemed to have more than the common meaning.

The visitor grew sensible of this pleasant characteristic, and at length found voice for her intention.

“I wished to see you for a very strange reason, Mrs. Quarrier.  I feel half afraid that I may even offend you.  You will think me very strange indeed.”

Lilian trembled.  The old dread awoke in her.  Had Miss Mumbray discovered something?

“Do let me know what it is,” she replied, in a low voice.

“It—­it is about Mr. Eustace Glazzard.  I think he is an intimate friend of Mr. Quarrier’s?”

“Yes, he is.”

“You are surprised, of course.  I came to you because I feel so alone and so helpless.  You know that I am engaged to Mr. Glazzard?”

Her voice faltered.  Relieved from anxiety, Lilian looked and spoke in her kindest way.

“Do speak freely to me, Miss Mumbray.  I shall be so glad to—­to help you in any way I can—­so very glad.”

“I am sure you mean that.  My mother is very much against our marriage—­against Mr. Glazzard.  She wants me to break off.  I can’t do that without some better reason than I know of.  Will you tell me what you think of Mr. Glazzard?  Will you tell me in confidence?  You know him probably much better than I do—­though that sounds strange.  You have known him much longer, haven’t you?”