haste, to betray the disquietude of her soul.

"You--you, of course," says Lady Rylton peevishly. "I always rely
upon you."

"I have no influence!"

"You mean, of course, that you will not use it," says Lady Rylton
angrily. "You still think that you will marry him yourself, that
perhaps his uncle will die and leave him once more a rich man--the
master of The Place, as the old Place's master should be; but that
is a distant prospect, Marian."

Mrs. Bethune has swung around, her beautiful figure is drawn up to
its most stately height.

"Not another word!" says she imperiously. "What have I to do with
your son? Let him marry--let him marry----" She pauses as if
choking, but goes on again: "I tell you I have no influence--_none!_
Appeal to Margaret, she may help you!"

"She--no!"

"Hush! here she is. Yes; ask her," says Mrs. Bethune, as if desirous
of letting Lady Rylton hear the opinion of the new-comer on this
extraordinary subject.



CHAPTER II.