“Few people are so refined as my wife, my dear.”

“As to mother knowing who killed her,” pursued Juliet, taking no notice of this interpolation, “it’s nonsense.  She said she believed Mr. Hale or Mr. Clancy—­”

“Surely not,” interposed Mr. Octagon anxiously, “both these gentlemen have participated in the delights of our literary Circle, and I should be loath to credit them with violence.”

“I don’t believe either has anything to do with the matter.  Mother doesn’t like them because they were such good friends to Aunt Selina.  Can you guess why mother quarrelled with aunt, father?”

“No, my dear.  Your mother has some grudge against her.  What it is I do not know.  She never told me.  But for over fifteen years your mother spoke little of your aunt and never called to see her.  I was quite astonished when she consented that you and Basil should call.  Did your aunt ever speak of your mother?”

“Very little, and then she was cautious—­what she said.  But this is not the question,” continued the girl, leaning her chin on her hand and staring into the fire; “why does mother say I must break my engagement with Cuthbert on account of this death?”

“Perhaps she will explain.”

“No; she left the room to avoid an explanation.  Cuthbert certainly saw Aunt Selina once or twice, but he did not care for her.  But he can have nothing to do with the matter.  Then again, mother, up till now, was always pleased that I should marry Cuthbert.”

“Yes,” said Octagon, twiddling his thumbs; “she has known Mr. Mallow ever since he was a child.  Both your aunt and your mother were great friends of Lord Caranby’s in their youth, over twenty years ago.  I believe at one time Selina was engaged to him, but he was in love with a young lady called Miss Saul, who died unexpectedly.”

“I know,” said Juliet; “and then Lord Caranby abandoned the house he was building at Rexton, and it has been shut up all these years.  Aunt Selina told me the story.  When I asked mother for details, she refused to speak.”

“Your mother is very firm when she likes.”

“Very obstinate, you mean,” said Juliet, undutifully.  “However, I am not going to give up Cuthbert.  I love him and he loves me.  I intend to marry him whatever mother may say.”

“But if your mother refuses her consent?”

“I am over age.”

As she spoke her brother entered the room hurriedly.  Basil Saxon was as fair and weak-looking as his sister was dark and strong in appearance.  He was smartly dressed, and in a rather affected way.  His hair was long, he wore a moustache and a short imperial, and talked in a languid way in a somewhat obscure manner.  These were the traits Juliet disliked in Basil.  She would rather have seen him a spruce well-groomed man about town like Cuthbert.  But at the present moment Basil’s face was flushed, and he spoke hurriedly, evidently laboring under great stress of emotion.