“That is soon done.  I suspect—­indeed, I believe that Mr. Lashmar’s behaviour is that of a man with an over-excited mind.  He thinks everything is within his reach, and everything permitted to him.  I believe he spoke to me quite honestly, thinking I might somehow plead his cause with you.”

“That isn’t what I want.  Do you suspect that he had any hopes to go upon?”

“I care so little about it,” answered Constance, “that I can’t form any conjecture.  All I can say is, that such a man would be quite capable of great illusions—­of believing anything that flattered his vanity.”

Lady Ogram was dissatisfied.  She kept a brief silence, with her eyes on May’s countenance.

“Ring the bell,” were her next words.

Constance rose and obeyed.  A servant entered.

“When Mr. Lashmar arrives,” said Lady Ogram, “you will bring him at once to me here.”

“Mr. Lashmar has just arrived, my lady.”

CHAPTER XXIV

“Ask him to come—.  No!  Stay!”

Lady Ogram stood up, not without difficulty.  She took a step or two forwards, as if trying whether she had the strength to walk.  Then she looked at her two companions, who had both risen.

“Constance, give me your arm.  I will go downstairs.”

They left the room, May slowly following and watching them with anxiety she vainly endeavoured to disguise.  The descent was slow.  Constance held firmly the bony arm which clung to her own, and felt it quiver at every step.  Just before they reached the bottom, Lady Ogram ordered the servant who came after them to pass before and conduct Mr. Lashmar into the library.  At the foot of the stairs, she paused; on her forehead stood little points of sweat, and her lips betrayed the painful effort with which she continued to stand upright.

“May”—­she looked into the girl’s face—­“if I don’t come when the luncheon bell rings, you will excuse me to Sir William and Lady Amys, and take my place at table.”

Slowly she walked on, still supported by Constance, to the library door.  When it was opened, and she saw Lashmar awaiting her within (he had passed into the library by the inner door which communicated with the drawing-room), she spoke of her companion.

“Thank you, Constance.  If I don’t come, sit down with the others.  I hope your meal will not be disturbed, but I may have to send for you.”

“Lady Ogram—­”

Constance began in a low, nervous voice.  She was looking at Lashmar, who, with an air of constraint, moved towards them.

“What is it?”

“Will you let me speak to you for a moment before—­”

“No!”

With this stern monosyllable, Lady Ogram dismissed her, entered the room, and closed the door.

Then her face changed.  A smile, which was more than half a grin of pain, responded to Lashmar’s effusive salutation; but she spoke not a word, and, when she had sunk into the nearest chair, her eyes, from beneath drooping lids, searched the man’s countenance.