“An old man, I suppose?” asked Lady Ogram, sharply.

“Not quite thirty.”

“But married?  Of course married?”

“I didn’t ask; but, I fancy, not.”

Lady Ogram flushed, and fell into extreme agitation.  Why had she not been told about this Yabsley?  Why had not that idiot Kerchever made inquiries and heard about him?  This very morning she would write him a severe letter.  What, May was engaged?  To a man called Yabsley?  Constance, as soon as interposition was possible, protested against this over-hasty view of the matter.  She did not for a moment think that May was engaged, and, after all, Mr. Yabsley might even be married.

“Then why,” cried Lady Ogram, furiously, “did you begin by terrifying me?  Did you do it on purpose?  If I thought so, I would send you packing about your business this moment!”

Constance, who had not yet taken a seat, drew back a few steps.  Her face darkened.  With hands clasped behind her, she regarded the raging old autocrat coldly and sternly.

“If you wish it, Lady Ogram, I am quite ready to go.”

Their eyes encountered.  Lady Ogram was quivering, mumbling, gasping; her look fell.

“Sit down,” she said imperatively.

“I am afraid,” was Miss Bride’s reply, “we had better not talk whilst you are feeling so unwell.”

“Sit down, I tell you!  I wasn’t unwell at all, till you made me so.  Who is this Yabsley?  Some low shopkeeper?  Some paltry clerk?”

The old lady knew very well that Constance Bride would never tremble before her.  It was this proudly independent spirit, unyielding as her own, and stronger still in that it never lost self-command, which had so established the clergyman’s daughter in her respect and confidence.  Yet the domineering instinct now and then prompted her to outrage a dignity she admired, and her invariable defeat was a new satisfaction when she calmly looked back upon it.

“You mustn’t mind me,” she said presently, when Constance had quietly refused to make conjectures about the subject under dissuasion.  “Isn’t it natural enough that I should be upset when I hear such news as this?  I wanted to have a talk with May this morning, but now—­”

She broke off, and hung her head gloomily.

“In your position,” said Constance, “I should find out by a simple inquiry whether Miss Tomalin is engaged or likely to be.  She will answer, I am sure, readily enough.  She doesn’t seem to be at all reticent.”

“Of course I shall do so; thank you for the advice, all the same.  Would you mind bringing her up here?  If you prefer it, I will ring.”

Scrupulousness of this kind always followed when Lady Ogram had behaved ill to her secretary.  The smile with which Constance responded was a ratification of peace.  In a few minutes the old lady and May were chatting together, alone, and without difficulty the great doubt was solved.