"Oh, for reasons--never mind now, as long as you are here. Come in and have some supper. You must be hungry and tired after your long journey.

Did you bring me some fish? Oh, thanks. It will be a treat, after weeks of Murray cod."

He followed her across the hall into the dining-room, where half the table was spread with a tempting meal. He looked around; there was no one there. He looked at Mary, and he thought she blushed.

"Where is Miss Liddon?" he inquired coolly. "Has she gone to bed?"

This time Mary blushed unmistakably. She exchanged a faltering glance with her husband, who sidled out of the room; then she rallied her dignity, and quietly replied that Miss Liddon was not with her.

"She was here two days ago," said Tony darkly.

"How do you know that?"

"Never mind how I know it. Only I do, for a certainty."

"Not from me; I have told n.o.body. If _she_ has been writing to you,"--Mrs. Oxenham, gentle woman that she was, flared up at the thought--"all I can say is that I am shockingly deceived in her."

"She never wrote to me in her life. But that's neither here nor there.

The fact remains that she was in this house two days ago, and is out of it now. What have you done with her?"

There was an irritating abruptness in his tone and manner, and his sister threw up her head with a haughty gesture.

"_I?_ Is she a child, that anybody should do anything with her? She has some relations living in the town, and has gone to stay with them."

"When did she go?"

"Oh, my dear Tony, you are too absurd! And I don't choose to be catechised in this fashion. Miss Liddon is nothing to you."

"That's all you know about it. When did she go, Mary?"

He looked hard at her, and she at him, and she held her breath for a moment, trying to grasp the situation.

"She went this morning."

"And knew that I was coming to-night?"

"How can I tell? I did not think it necessary to talk about it to her."

"You mean you kept it from her? And that you contrived that she should go to her relations--having put me off to give you time to do it--so as to have her out of my way. I know about those relations. They have snubbed and spurned her in her struggles, like the cads they are, and she can't endure them."

"They have been exceedingly attentive to her, and had asked her to visit them a dozen times. They proposed to-day themselves."

"I have it from her sister. And also that she was expecting to stay on here. It was in a letter, dated two days ago. I read it. Mary, it seems to me that you have behaved abominably. You simply turned her out."

"Tony, I will not allow you to talk to me like that. And just let me ask _you_ one question:--Supposing I did, what in the world can it matter to you?"

"Well, I came up on purpose to see her, that's all."

"Oh! You are very complimentary to us. But you don't mean that, of course. _You!_ A man in your position can't possibly have any concern with a girl in hers; at least, you have no business to have any."

"That's worthy of Maude, Polly. In fact, the very words she said to me yesterday."

"Maude? What does she know about it? Tony, you are talking riddles. I can't understand you in the least."

"Oh, Maude knows. So does my father. But _he_ doesn't say those insulting things. He says I have made a wise choice--as I know I have--and has given us his consent and blessing in advance. Do you understand now?"

She understood, and was momentarily stunned. Not Lady Louisa, after all, but this little no-account tea-room girl! It was a heavy shock. She dropped into a chair, flung herself back in it, and e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, "_Well!_"--adding with a long breath, "And she never gave me the least hint of it all this time!"

"She couldn't very well, seeing that she hasn't the faintest idea of such a thing herself--to the best of my knowledge."

"Then"--eagerly--"you have not spoken yet?"

"I am going to speak as soon as I can find her. And you are not going to prevent me, though you may think you are."

He poured out some whisky, and began to survey the dishes on the table.

He was very angry, and consequently calm.

"Where's Harry?" he inquired. "I ordered the new buggy yesterday. I want to tell him about it. Harry, where are you?"

Harry came in, sheepish, but bl.u.s.tering, and was delighted to go into the buggy question without delay. They sat down to supper, and the men discussed business matters throughout the meal. Then Mr. Oxenham faint-heartedly proposed a smoke.

"No, thank you," said Anthony. "I'm off to bed. Same room, Mary?"

"Yes, dear." She followed him into the hall. "Aren't you going to say good-night to me, Tony?"

He kissed her coldly in silence.

"I did not know," she whispered. "It is so sudden--so unexpected. We will talk it over to-morrow, Tony."

"There's nothing to talk over," said he. And he marched off.

Mrs. Oxenham went to bed and cried. Then she thought deeply for a long time. Then she woke her husband up to talk to him.

"After all," she said, "it might have been worse. Some men, gentlemen of the highest cla.s.s, marry barmaids and actresses--the vulgarest creatures. And Jenny isn't vulgar. However unsuitable she may be in other ways, personally she is a lady. That's one comfort. And--and it's very n.o.ble of him, don't you think?"

She got up early in the morning, and wrote to Jenny.

"DEAR CHILD,--

"My brother came last night, and was in a great way to find you gone. Ask your aunt to be good enough to spare you again to us, for I want you to help me to entertain him. We are talking of a picnic to the ranges, and could not manage that without you. I am sending d.i.c.kson with the buggy. Come back with him, and your aunt can have you later.

"Your affectionate friend,

"MARY OXENHAM."

This note was delivered at the bank at breakfast time, with the message that the man was waiting for an answer. Jenny took it to her room, read it, and penned the following reply with a violently shaking hand:--

"DEAR MRS. OXENHAM,--

"Thank you very much for your kindness in wishing me to return to you, but I think I ought not to prolong my holiday further, now that I am quite strong again. I am sure they must be badly wanting me at home, and I have decided to go back to-morrow, with some friends of my aunt's who happen to be going down. I could not leave her to-day, as I have but just come, and the time is so short. I am very sorry you should have had the trouble of sending the buggy for nothing. Please accept my grateful thanks for all your kindness, which I shall never forget, and believe me,--