"How do you do, Heather?" she said to me. "I am quite willing to see you again, but this lady and this gentleman!"

"You know me very well, Lady Helen," said Vernon. "I am that Captain Carbury who stood by your brother's death-bed--who hold his written confession, and who is about to marry Heather Grayson."

"All nonsense, all nonsense!" said Lady Helen.

"But I thought----" I began.

Lady Helen looked at Aunt Penelope.

"It does not matter what you think, Heather; you are only a child. May I be informed who this lady is--the lady who has dared to come into my presence uninvited?"

"My name, madam, is Miss Despard, and I am real own aunt to Heather Grayson. Heather Grayson's mother, the first wife of Major Grayson, happened to be my sister. I presume therefore, madam, that I have a right over this young girl, more particularly as she lived with me, and I trained her, and educated her from the time she was eight years old until she was eighteen."

"Ah, yes," said Lady Helen in a soft voice; "that dreadful time, those ten terrible years!"

"We all know the story of those years; you are, of course, aware of that," said Captain Carbury at that moment.

Lady Helen gave him a quick glance.

"Yes," she said suddenly. "You observe my dress. I am in mourning for my dear one."

Her voice trembled for a minute. I looked at her and saw that she was really sorry for the man who was dead.

"He is in his grave," she continued, "poor, dear Gideon! We did what we could for him, your father and I. Now our one desire is to let his poor bones rest in peace."

"Perhaps it is, madam," said Vernon just then, "but there are other people who have a say in the matter. Now, Heather, it is time for you to speak."

I looked at Lady Helen and took my courage in my hands.

"Stepmother----"

"Oh! You acknowledge that I am your stepmother? Well, what have you to say for yourself? You have been a nice stepdaughter to me!"

"I could not help it," I said. "I never intended to be nasty to you."

"Well, I don't wish to complain. But who gave you all the good things you enjoyed, your dress, your home, your fun, your pleasure, your good time all round? Answer me that question--who gave you those things?"

"You did."

"Ah! I'm glad you acknowledge it."

"Of course I acknowledge it."

"And do you think you have behaved well to me in return? Because I did the very best possible for you and because a needy, poor man, almost a pauper, for he has practically no private means, came and demanded your hand, and your father and I considered it an improper and unsuitable request, you took the bit between your teeth, and, without a word, without a hint, ran away. Never shall I forget our return from Brighton and the agony that your poor father, whom you profess to love, was in.

You ran away. Why did you run away?"

"Because I couldn't do what you wanted."

"And you did even worse," continued Lady Helen, "for I have discovered everything. You had the audacity, the impropriety--you, a young girl--to go to Lord Hawtrey's, and to try to interview him. Oh, yes; I have heard that story, and I know what it means; and a nice meaning it has for you, miss--a very nice meaning, indeed!"

"You broke my heart and went away to the country and took father with you," I said. "I could think of no one else. I went to him because I knew he was a gentleman, and would act as such."

"Suppose we come to the matter in hand," interrupted Vernon, who was getting impatient at all this dallying.

"Yes, that's right, Vernon; that's right. Keep her to the point,"

exclaimed Aunt Penelope.

I looked back at them both. Aunt Penelope's bright eyes were like little pin points in her head; they were fixed on Lady Helen's got-up face. She had really never before, in the whole course of her life, met such a woman. She was studying her from every point of view.

"I have come here, stepmother," I said, "to tell you that I--I--know all the story with regard to my--my darling father. Vernon has told me, and Vernon and I have made up our minds to marry, and father has given his consent, and we mean to be married, if all comes right, in about----"

"Best say a week, Heather," interrupted Vernon.

"In about a fortnight from now," I continued.

"Well, if you must put it off so long," he remarked, leaning back in his chair.

"But the question I have come here to-day to ask is this," I continued.

"What is to become of my father?"

"The more proper thing for you to say, Heather Dalrymple, is this: What is to become of the man who has had the good fortune to marry Lady Helen Dalrymple?"

"But I don't think it a good fortune at all," I said. "Oh, Lady Helen, I must speak the truth; I can't beat about the bush any longer. My dear, my darling father is not a bit happy, not a bit! He did what he did--oh!

it was so n.o.ble of him!--to--save your brother--I know the whole story.

Oh, he was a hero! But must all his life be sacrificed because he is a hero? Your brother is in his grave; give my own dad back his freedom; let him come and live with Vernon and me!"

"Upon my word, I never heard of such a request in all my life!"

"But you will do it," I said. "There need be no scandal; you can go abroad or anywhere you like, and I am sure father will visit you sometimes, and no one need think anything about that, and--and you know you're not really fond of father, because if you were you would not make him so terribly unhappy. Oh, do let him come and live with us!"

"You take my breath away! You are the most audacious, dreadful girl I ever came across. What do you take me for?"

"Lady Helen, I know you have a heart somewhere."

She looked at me. The rims round her eyes were blackened, her eyebrows were artificially darkened, her face was powdered--could I get at any soul behind that much bedecked exterior? Bedecked, do I call it?

Disfigured is the word I ought to use.

"Lady Helen," I said suddenly, "give my father his happiness! Don't, oh, don't be cruel to him any longer, I beg of you, I beseech of you!"

"Child, don't make a fool of yourself." Lady Helen rose.

"Listen, you good people," she said. "This little Heather Dalrymple, my stepdaughter, would never have thought of such an absurd and ridiculous scheme but for you; you, Miss Despard, and you, Captain Carbury, thought this thing out. You wanted to drag me before the world as a woman separated from her husband; you thought to disgrace me before the eyes of the world, and you imagined that I would obey the whim of a child. I know better. Heather, I distinctly and once for all refuse your request."

"Then, madam, it is my turn to say something," cried Vernon.

"You must say it pretty quickly, sir, for my motor-car will be round in a few minutes."

"I fear your car must wait. You have an important matter to listen to.

It is this. You love your brother, and we all, even the most hardened of us, have a feeling of respect towards the dead. But I can at least a.s.sure you that there is such a thing as even greater respect for the living who have been wronged, and the entire story of Major Grayson's conduct shall be published before the world unless you agree to what this young lady proposes. He will come out very much a hero, I fancy; but your conduct in the matter will not be quite so gratifying to you and your friends."