were the more they liked it, and immediately summoned the lady's-maid, who presently ushered Clara to the boudoir.

Her ladyship is with Sir Richard, but will join you in a few moments,' she said, very respectfully; for, as became her sex, she had even a keener eye than the butler for Miss Clara's possibilities.

Finding the scene at her disposal, that young lady, with quiet celerity, made a slight alteration in the arrangement of the furniture: she made all the chairs, save one, front the window, and took the only seat that had its back to the light. 'My lady's tongue will tell me nothing she can help,' was her muttered reflection; but, as everyone is so fond of saying, her beauty lies in expression, the disadvantage of which is that it is not always under one's own control.' Clara, who was beautiful in all moods, 'wet or dry,' as Hugh used to say, had doubtless had the attribute in question of the elder lady thrown at her' more than once in depreciation of her own charms, and even in that supreme moment she did not forget it.

When Lady Trevor made her appearance, it was with a countenance grave and sad, befitting one who has come from the bedside of a sick husband, but without the least sign of annoyance at what must have certainly seemed to her an inopportune summons. But the instant she glanced at her visitor's face her lips tightened, as one who buckles on his armour for the fray, and her tone had a distance in it she had never used before, as she inquired the other's business.

'To what am I indebted, Miss Clara, for the honour of this second visit?'

'It arises from the first, Lady Trevor,' was the icy reply, in which, as it has since occurred to me, we did not quite understand one another. I mean as to the relations which you chose to assume were in future to exist between your son and me.'

'Indeed! Perhaps it would have been better, then, if you had taken advantage of my suggestion that you should see my son, and hear from himself his views upon the subject.'

I have seen him, madam.'

'What! and do you mean to tell me that he has dared-I mean that he has had the audacity to pretend that you have still any hold on his affections?'

I said that I had seen him; I did not say that I had spoken with him. That, as you were about indiscreetly to observe, he doubtless dared not do.'

And is it possible that you that any girl in your position, with a spark of self-respect-could have desired him to do so? Why, you told me yourself that you never wished to see his face again-oh, I see,' she added with quiet scorn, 'you have

learnt that your latest rival has quitted the harvest-field, and you are not too proud to take her leavings.'

The colour rose in Clara's cheek as though she had been smitten upon it, but her voice had no trace of anger in it as she replied:

I have learnt that, Lady Trevor-which, by-the-bye, you carefully concealed from me-since I was here last, and also much else that concerns yourself more nearly. I warn you not to burn your boats by insulting me beyond forgiveness.'

'I have no wish to insult you, Clara,' returned the other, in more guarded if still unconciliatory tones; 'but as a woman old enough to be your mother, and with a warm regard for you and yours, it is my duty to point out to you that any persistence on your part in this unhappy matter would be most improper and unmaidenly, humiliating for any woman, but, in the case of a young lady in your position, shameful.'

'Take care what you say, Lady Trevor, or you will repent it. I have come, no matter how, to the knowledge of something, the mention of which will bring you to your knees.'

Lady Trevor trembled, in spite of her utmost efforts to maintain a show of calm. She had uttered that very threat herself to Hugh only a few hours ago. Was it possible that the grounds for it were the same in this case as in that? Was she really in the power of this unscrupulous and masterful girl?

'What I wish to appeal to,' she answered, ignoring (idly enough, as she felt only too well) the other's insolent menace, 'is the proper pride which belongs, not only to your sex, but to your station. I know that to some girls the fact of their rival being in a humbler rank of life than themselves takes half the sting out of a lover's faithlessness; they flatter themselves that the affection he professes for them is of another and finer kind, not to be compared for one instant with the vulgar passion that has for the moment caused him to forget his fealty. But you, whose intuition makes up for your lack of experience of the world, are wiser; you

'One moment, Lady Trevor,' interrupted Clara; 'let us not again discuss this subject in the absence of a mutual understanding, by the light of which alone it can be viewed aright. If you are speaking of John Beeton's daughter, let me remind you that the difference of birth between herself and you consists only in the order of time! She belongs to the same race as yourself, though of a younger generation. So late as a quarter of a century ago or so, my Lady Trevor, remember you yourself were Letty Beeton!'

CHAPTER XLIV.

MAKING IT UP.

IT has been always affirmed, by those philosophers who are given to take cheerful views of life (for other people) that a calamity to which we have been long looking forward is, when it does come, hardly a calamity at all; that the doing away with the suspense and apprehension which it caused us is almost an equivalent for the shock of the blow, if, indeed, it can even be called a shock. On the other hand, it should be considered that the very expectation of its falling has weakened our powers of endurance, and, above all, that the consequences-on account of which we chiefly feared the blow-are still to come.

As Clara's words fell upon Lady Trevor's ears it was no mitigation of her despair that for a quarter of a century she had dreaded nothing so much as their utterance. In that terrible moment she not only saw herself disgraced, but the edifice of deception that she had built up with such care and toil, and which of late seemed so secure and strong, shattered to fragments; the scheme of her life in ruins, and the unhappy lad, for whom it had been devised, exposed to public scorn. And-bitterest blow of all-she, too, exposed to his scorn, for well she knew he would have no mercy upon her. In that supreme moment of agony it was fortunate for Lady Trevor that her instinct at once prompted her to accept defeat; a weaker woman would have attempted to brave it out, and defy her enemy; she had done so herself, when menaced by Mr. Morris, but she understood that she had now a very different foe to deal with, and that her only hope-if hope there waslay in that foe's forbearance. How Clara Thorne had discovered the weak place in her armour she had, of course, no conception; but since it was discovered, she made no pretence of the dart not having gone home.

'And now you have found out my secret, Clara Thorne,' she said, drawing herself up to her full height, and speaking with dignity without defiance, 'what are you going to do with me?'

No acknowledgment could have been more complete, no submission more absolute; and yet there was a certain heroism in the confession which preserved it from anything akin to humiliation. She threw herself on the other's mercy, not grovelling on the earth like one who expects a blow, but with a calm acceptance of any fate that might be meted out to her.

Clara was moved as she had never thought to be by anything this woman could have said to her; the agony of the other's face appealed to her heart, but not less than her brave words. She was one who could appreciate courage even in an enemy.

and much more when that enemy lay at her mercy awaiting the stroke. The two women, although their interests had been so conflicting, were in fact kindred spirits.

'If I ask you to spare me,' continued Lady Trevor, perceiving the impression she had produced, 'it will not be for my own sake, but for that of my son, whom you say that you used to love.'

Clara winced at this, for the other had spoken under a misconception of her intentions; and she answered in a harsher voice than her feelings of pity, and even of admiration, prompted, 'Your son, then, knows nothing of this?'

'Hugh? Heaven forbid!' cried the wretched woman, forgetting for the moment that it rested with Clara herself whether he should know it or not. 'No one, so far as I know, has the least suspicion of it except yourself.'

'That is what I wanted to be assured of,' said Clara naïvely, and with a deep sigh of relief. 'It will be your fault, Lady Trevor, and not mine, if any third person ever does know this secret; as for me, I will be as silent as the grave.'

'You noble girl!'

It was a genuine burst of gratitude and admiration, but the other, with a scornful smile of self-depreciation, declined the praise.

'I am certainly not noble, Lady Trevor; though I hope I am not so base as to triumph over a prostrate foe. Like other people, I have my own ends to serve, and though I need no bribe, my silence must have its price.'

You have only to name it. I am in no position to bargain with you,' she answered, with a faint smile.

'Let us not talk of bargains, Lady Trevor,' said Clara earnestly. 'Let us be henceforth friends and allies. One stipulation only I must insist upon, namely, that you shall be henceforth perfectly frank and open with me. As to the rest, I think you will find me reasonable in my requirements. There is, in fact, only one matter dear to my heart, to which, though you have hitherto opposed it, you can no longer have any objection to offer. Your influence will, I take it for granted, now be used in my favour as regards my relations with your son.'

Lady Trevor stared at her companion in dumb amazement. Was this, then, the girl whom she had credited with such vaulting ambition and such little love, whom she had looked upon as a mere self-seeker-though not indeed of a vulgar type-and incapable of a genuine passion? It was inexplicable to her that, having discovered Hugh was base-born, and might at any moment be deprived of all the privileges and possessions of an elder son, Clara should be still willing, and even eager, to marry him.

'Your silence, Lady Trevor, hardly seems to mean consent,

continued the other drily; 'yet only a few hours ago you were good enough to say that against my poor individual self as a daughter-in-law you had nothing to urge, if only my birth and station were equal to those of your son.'

'You mistake me altogether, Clara,' exclaimed Lady Trevor earnestly. So far from objecting to what you propose, I was only surprised and astonished at the strength of an attachment which has stood so great a strain. I am well aware, in our changed relations, that it is now you, not I, who, in the alliance of which you speak, will have to stoop, and I thought that, despite your old affection (which I now perceive to be far stronger than I thought it), you would hesitate to marry my poor Hugh.' 'Hesitate? Why should I hesitate because you are John Beeton's daughter instead of some Frenchman's whom one never heard of? Why should I cease to love him because his mother before his birth loved not wisely but too well? When you come to know me better, Lady Trevor, you will have, I hope, a better opinion of my wits than to suppose I set such store on race and lineage as to balk my heart's desire. I see no reason, supposing, as I believe, that Hugh repents of his late wild folly, and is eager to make amends for it, by making me his wife, why you and I should not be friends for life-nay, considering the bond between us, which it will be our common interest to keep concealed, something more than friends,' and with infinite grace she held out both her hands.

Lady Trevor took them cordially; it was far easier to do so than to speak. She feared to speak, lest in her tone should be read the triumphant joy which filled her soul. So, after all, then, this girl had but discovered half her secret, and that the least important half. Clara knew, indeed, that she was Letty Beeton, but it was now evident she did not know that the son Letty had borne before her marriage was Hugh himself. That son she doubtless imagined, as did every one else, had died in infancy. In Clara's eyes Hugh was still legitimate, and the heir of Mirbridge; and it was no longer strange, and involved nothing of self-sacrifice, that she should still wish to marry him. For an instant the thought occurred to Lady Trevor's mind to tell Clara the whole truth. The girl had been generous to her, and generosity was owed to her in return, but the long habit of duplicity and concealment was an overmatch for the honourable instinct. Moreover, she feared to trust her. If she told the truth, Clara would certainly no longer wish to marry Hugh, nor would she have that hold on the girl of which she was now possessed; whereas, if they were once united, even if the other part of her secret should become known to her, it would be to Clara's interest, as she had just said, to prevent the matter going further. With hands still clasped in hers, the girl was looking