“I fancy you are right,” answered the other, gravely.  “If so, this rather grotesque situation becomes more manageable.  It is fortunate that you and I know each other so well, and have the habit of straightforward speech.  I may assume, no doubt, that, from the very first, our friendship was misinterpreted by Lady Ogram; reasonable relations between man and woman are so very rare, and, in this case, the observer was no very acute psychologist.  I feel sure she is actuated by the kindest motives; but what seems to her my inexplicable delay has been too much for her temper, and at last there was nothing for it but to deal roundly with me.  One may suspect, too, that she feels she has not much time to spare.  Having made up her mind that we are to marry, she wants to see the thing settled.  Looking at it philosophically, I suppose one may admit that her views and her behaviour are intelligible.  Meanwhile, you and I find ourselves in a very awkward position.  We must talk it over—­ don’t you think?—­quite simply, and decide what is best to do.”

Constance listened, her eyes conning the carpet.  There was silence for a minute, then she spoke.

“What did Lady Ogram tell you about me?”

“She repeated in vague terms something she had already said at Rivenoak.  It seems that you are to undertake some great responsibility—­to receive some proof of her confidence which will affect all the rest of your life.  More than that I don’t know, but I understand that there has been a conversation between you, in which everything was fully explained.”

Constance nodded.  After a moment’s reflection she raised her eyes to Lashmar’s, and intently regarded him; her expression was one of anxiety severely controlled.

“You shall know what that responsibility is,” she said, with a just perceptible tremor in her voice.  “Lady Ogram, like a good many other people nowadays, has more money than she knows what to do with.  For many years, I think, she has been troubled by a feeling that a woman rich as she ought to make some extraordinary use of her riches—­ ought to set an example, in short, to the wealthy world.  But she never could discover the best way of doing this.  She has an independent mind, and likes to strike out ways for herself.  Ordinary Charities didn’t satisfy her; to tell the truth, she wanted not only to do substantial good, but to do it in a way which should perpetuate her name—­cause her to be more talked about after her death than she has been in her lifetime.  Time went on, and she still could hit upon nothing brilliant; all she had decided was to build and endow a great hospital at Hollingford, to be called by her name, and this, for several reasons, she kept postponing.  Then came her acquaintance with me—­you know the story.  She was troubling about the decay of the village, and trying to hit on remedies.  Well, I had the good luck to suggest the paper-mill, and it was a success, and Lady Ogram at once had a great opinion of me.