“It seems rather faint-hearted, I admit.”

The dialogue lasted but a few minutes longer.  May repeated once or twice that she had no personal interest in Lashmar’s fortunes, but her utterance grew mechanical, and she was evidently withdrawing into her thoughts.  As a clock in the room told softly the first hour of the morning, Mrs. Toplady rose; she spoke a few words about her engagements for the day which had nominally begun, then kissed her friend on the cheek.

“Don’t think any more of it, May.  It mustn’t interfere with your sleep.”

“That indeed it won’t, Mrs. Toplady!” replied the girl, with a musically mocking laugh.

Appearances notwithstanding, May told the truth when she declared that she had never thought of marrying Lashmar.  This, however, did not necessarily involve an indifference to Lashmar’s homage.  That the coming man should make his court to her, she saw as a natural and agreeable thing; that he should recognise her intellectual powers, and submit to her personal charm, was only what she had hoped and expected from the first.  After their conversation in the supper-room, she counted him a conquest, and looked forward with no little interest to the development of this romance.  Its sudden termination astonished and mortified her.  Had Lashmar turned away to make some brilliant alliance, her pique would have endured only for a moment; Lord Dymchurch’s approach would have more than compensated the commoner’s retirement.  But that she should merely have amused his idle moments, whilst his serious thoughts were fixed on Constance Bride, was an injury not easy to pardon.  For she disliked Miss Bride, and she knew the sentiment was mutual.

Seeing the situation in the new light shed by Mrs. Toplady’s ingenious conjectures, her sense of injury was mitigated; the indignant feeling that remained she directed chiefly against Lady Ogram, who seemed inclined to dispose of her in such a summary way.  Constance, naturally, she disliked more than ever, but Lashmar she viewed with something of compassion, as a victim of circumstances.  Were those circumstances irresistible?  Was there not even now a possibility of defeating them?—­not with a view to taking Miss Bride’s place, but for the pleasure of asserting herself against a plot, and reassuring her rightful position as arbitress of destinies.  Lady Ogram was a kind old woman, but decidedly despotic, and she had gone too far.  If indeed Lashmar were acting in helpless obedience to her, it would be the merest justice to make an attempt at rescuing him and restoring his liberty.

Not without moral significance was the facial likeness between Lady Ogram in her youth and May Tomalin.  One who had seen the girl as she sat to-night in her bedroom, brooding deeply, without the least inclination for repose, must have been struck by a new vigour in the lines of her countenance.  Thus—­though with more of obstinate purpose—­had Arabella Tomalin been wont to look at moments of crisis in her adventurous youth.