"Very well."

They avoided each-other's look, and there was a rather long pause.

"I'll go on with my story," said Constance, in a voice still under studious control. "All this happened when Lady Ogram thought she had no living relative. One fine day, Mr. Kerchever came down with news of Miss Tomalin, and straightway the world was altered. Lady Ogram had a natural heiress, and one in whom she delighted. Everything had to be reconsidered. The great hospital became a dream. She wanted May Tomalin to be rich, very rich, to marry brilliantly. I have always suspected that Lady Ogram looked upon her life as a sort of revenge on the aristocratic cla.s.s for the poverty and ignorance of her own people; did anything of the kind ever occur to you?"

"Was her family really mean?"

"Everyone says so. Mrs. Gallantry tells me that our ill.u.s.trious M. P.

has made laborious searches, hoping to prove something scandalous. Of course she tells it as a proof of Mr. Robb's unscrupulous hatred of Lady Ogram. I daresay the truth is that she came of a low cla.s.s. At all events, Miss Tomalin, who represents the family in a progressive stage, is to establish its glory for ever. One understands. It's very human."

Lashmar wore the Toplady smile.

"It never occurred to our friend," he said, "that her niece might undertake the great trust instead of you?"

"She has spoken to me quite frankly about that. The trust cannot be so great as it would have been, but it remains with me. Miss Tomalin, it 'nay be hoped, will play not quite an ordinary part in the fashionable world; she has ideas of her own, and"--the voice was modulated--"some faith in herself. But my position is different, and perhaps my mind.

Lady Ogram a.s.sures me that her faith in me, and her hopes, have suffered no change. For one thing, the mill is to become my property.

Then--"

She hesitated, and her eyes pa.s.sed over the listener's face. Lashmar was very attentive.

"There's no need to go into details," she added quickly. "Lady Ogram told me everything, saying she felt that the time had come for doing so. And I accepted the trust."

"Without knowing, however," said Dyce, "the not unimportant condition which her mind attached to it."

"There was no condition, expressed or reserved."

Constance's tone had become hard again. Her eyes were averted, her lips set in their firmest lines.

"Are you quite sure of that?"

"Quite," was the decisive reply.

"How do you reconcile that with what has pa.s.sed today between Lady Ogram and me?"

"It was between Lady Ogram and _you_," said Constance, subduing her voice.

"I see. You mean that I alone am concerned; that your position will in no case be affected?"

"Yes, I mean that," answered Constance, quietly.

Lashmar thought for a moment, then moved on his chair, and spoke in a low tone, which seemed addressed to his hearer's sympathy.

"Perhaps you are right. Probably you are. But there is one thing of which _I_ feel every a.s.surance. If it becomes plain that her project must come to nothing, Lady Ogram's interest in me is at an end. I may say good-bye to Hollingford."

"You are mistaken," replied Constance, in a voice almost of indifference.

"Well, the question will soon be decided." Lashmar seemed to submit himself to the inevitable. "I shall write to Lady Ogram, telling her the result of our conversation. We shall see how she takes it."

He moved as if about to rise, but only turned his chair slightly aside.

Constance was regarding him from under her brows. She spoke in her most businesslike tone.

"It was this that you came to tell me?"

"Why, no. It wasn't that at all."

"What had you in mind, then?"

"I was going to ask if you would marry me--or rather, if you would promise to--or rather, if you would make believe to marry me. I thought that, under the circ.u.mstances, it was a justifiable thing to do, for I fancied your future, as well as mine, was at stake. Seeing our friend's condition, it appeared to me that a formal engagement between us would be a kindness to her, and involve no serious consequences for us. But the case is altered. You being secure against Lady Ogram's displeasure, I have, of course, no right to ask you to take a part in such a proceeding--which naturally you would feel to be unworthy of you. All I have to do is to thank you for your efforts on my behalf. Who knows? I _may_ hold my own at Hollingford. But at Rivenoak it's all over with me."

He stood up, and a.s.sumed an att.i.tude of resigned dignity, smiling to himself. But Constance kept her seat, her eyes on the ground.

"I believe you were going down on Sat.u.r.day?" she said.

"So it was arranged. Well, I mustn't stay--"

Constance rose, and he offered his hand.

"Between us, it makes no difference, I hope?" said Dyce, with an emphasised effort of cheeriness. "Unless you think me a paltry fellow, ready to do anything to get on?"

"I don't think that," replied Constance, quietly.

"But you feel that what I was going to ask would have been rather a severe test of friendship?"

"Under the circ.u.mstances, I could have pardoned you."

"But you wouldn't have got beyond forgiveness?"

Constance smiled coldly, her look wandering.

"How can I tell?"

"But--oh, never mind! Good-bye, for the present."

He pressed her hand again, and turned away. Before he had reached the door, Constance's voice arrested him.

"Mr. Lashmar--"

He looked at her as if with disinterested inquiry.

"Think well before you take any irreparable step. It would be a pity."

Dyce moved towards her again.

"Why, what choice have I? The position is impossible. If you hadn't said those unlucky words about being so sure--"

"I don't see that they make the slightest difference," answered Constance, her eyebrows raised. "If you had intended a genuine offer of marriage--yes, perhaps. But as all you meant was to ask me to save the situation, with no harm to anybody, and the certainty of giving great pleasure to our friend--"

"You see it in that light?" cried Lashmar, flinging away his hat. "You really think I should be justified? You are not offended?"