“Who is talking nonsense now, Arabella?”

“I am not.  But I shan’t say it.  And now, mamma, I’ll tell you what we must do.”

“You must tell me why also?”

“I can do nothing of the kind.  He knows the Duke.”  The Duke with the Trefoils always meant the Duke of Mayfair who was Arabella’s ducal uncle.

“Intimately?”

“Well enough to go there.  There is to be a great shooting at Mistletoe,”—­Mistletoe was the Duke’s place,—­“in January.  I got that from him, and he can go if he likes.  He won’t go as it is:  but if I tell him I’m to be there, I think he will.”

“What did you tell him?”

“Well;—­I told him a tarradiddle of course.  I made him understand that I could be there if I pleased, and he thinks that I mean to be there if he goes.”

“But I’m sure the Duchess won’t have me again.”

“She might let me come.”

“And what am I to do?”

“You could go to Brighton with Miss De Groat;—­or what does it matter for a fortnight?  You’ll get the advantage when it’s done.  It’s as well to have the truth out at once, mamma,—­I cannot carry on if I’m always to be stuck close to your apron-strings.  There are so many people won’t have you.”

“Arabella, I do think you are the most ungrateful, hard-hearted creature that ever lived.”

“Very well; I don’t know what I have to be grateful about, and I need to be hard-hearted.  Of course I am hard-hearted.  The thing will be to get papa to see his brother.”

“Your papa!”

“Yes; that’s what I mean to try.  The Duke of course would like me to marry Lord Rufford.  Do you think that if I were at home here it wouldn’t make Mistletoe a very different sort of place for you?  The Duke does like papa in a sort of way, and he’s civil enough to me when I’m there.  He never did like you.”

“Everybody is so fond of you!  It was what you did when young Stranorlar was there which made the Duchess almost turn us out of the house.”

“What’s the good of your saying that, mamma?  If you go on like that I’ll separate myself from you and throw myself on papa.”

“Your father wouldn’t lift his little finger for you.”

“I’ll try at any rate.  Will you consent to my going there without you if I can manage it?”

“What did Lord Rufford say?” Arabella here made a grimace.  “You can tell me something.  What are the lawyers to say to Mr. Morton’s people?”

“Whatever they like.”

“If they come to arrangements do you mean to marry him?”

“Not for the next two months certainly.  I shan’t see him again now heaven knows when.  He’ll write no doubt,—­one of his awfully sensible letters, and I shall take my time about answering him.  I can stretch it out for two months.  If I’m to do any good with this man it will be all arranged before that time.  If the Duke could really be made to believe that Lord Rufford was in earnest I’m sure he’d have me there.  As to her, she always does what he tells her.”