“What!”

“Pray don’t let there be any misunderstanding—­this time,” said Constance, whose grave irony was perhaps somewhat too fine for the intelligence of either of her hearers.  “Mr. Lash mar behaved like a man of honour, and I quite approve of the way in which he expressed himself.  His words would have been perfectly intelligible—­even to Miss Tomalin.  Admitting his right to withdraw from the engagement if he had conscientious objections to it, I ventured to ask Mr. Lashmar whether there was any particular reason for his wish to be released.  He paid me the compliment of perfect frankness.  His reason was, that he wished to marry someone else.”

“And who is that?” came hoarsely from Lady Ogram.

“Miss Tomalin.”

May had lost her natural colour.  She could not take her eyes from the speaker; her lips were parted, her forehead was wrinkled into a strange expression of frightened animosity.  Until the utterance of her name, she had hoped against hope that Constance did not intend the worst.  For the first time in her life, she felt herself struck without pity, and the mere fact of such stern enmity affected her with no less surprise than dread.  She would have continued staring at Constance, had not an alarming sound, a sort of moaning snarl, such as might proceed from some suddenly wounded beast, caused her to turn towards her aunt.  The inarticulate sound was followed by words painfully forced out.

“Go on—­what else?—­go on, I tell you!”

The speaker’s breath came with difficulty.  She was bent forward, her eyes starting, her scraggy throat working as if in anguish.  Constance had stepped nearer to her.

“Are you ill, Lady Ogram?  Shall I call for help?”

“Go on!  Go on, I tell you!” was the hoarse reply.  “I hadn’t thought of that.  I see, now.  What next did he say?”

“Mr. Lashmar,” pursued Constance, in a voice somewhat less under control, “did me the honour to say that he felt sure I had only his interests and his happiness at heart.  He knew that there might be considerable difficulties in his way, even after it had been made known that he was free to turn his attention to Miss Tomalin, and he was so good as to request my assistance.  It had occurred to him that I might be able to present his case in a favourable light to you, Lady Ogram.  Naturally, I was anxious to do my best.  Perhaps this is hardly the moment to pursue the subject.  Enough for the present to have made known Mr. Lashmar’s state of mind.”

Lady Ogram seemed to have overcome her physical anguish.  She sat upright once more, and, looking at May, asked in a voice only just above a whisper: 

“What have you to say to this?”

“What can I say,” exclaimed the girl, with high-voiced vehemence.  “I know nothing about it.  Of course it’s easy enough to believe that Mr. Lashmar wants to get out of his engagement to Miss Bride.”  She laughed scornfully.  “He—­”