leaning over them, looks at her aunt--such a wonderfully young aunt,
with her yellow hair and her sparkling eyes! Marian's lips have
taken a cynical turn; her smile now is unpleasant.

"What a hideous expression!" says Lady Rylton, shuddering. "You
spoil yourself, Marian; you do indeed. You will never make a good
marriage if you talk like that. 'Life's blood'!--_detestable!"_

"I don't desire a good marriage, as _you_ regard it."

Lady Rylton sits suddenly quite upright.

"If you mean marriage with Maurice," says she, "put that out of your
head. You must be mad to cherish such a hope. You are both paupers,
for one thing, and for the rest, I assure you, my dear, Maurice is
not as infatuated about you as you are about him!"

Mrs. Bethune makes a sudden movement; it is slight. Her face
darkens. One reading between the lines might at this moment see that
she could have killed Lady Rylton with a wondrous joy. Killing has
its consequences, however, and she only stands quite quiet, looking
at her foe. What a look it is!

"It is you who are mad," says she calmly. "What I meant was that I
should probably marry some rich nobody for the sake of his wealth.
It would be quite in my line. I should arrange him, form him, bring
him into Society, even against Society's will! There is a certain
excitement in the adventure. As for Maurice, he is no doubt in your
eyes a demigod--in mine," with infinite contempt, "he is a man."