"By no means,"--and Roxmouth strolled into the garden, Longford walking beside him--"But she is the only woman I at present know, who, if she obeys her aunt's wishes, will have a fortune of several millions. And just because such a little devil SHOULD be mastered and MUST be mastered, I have resolved to master her. That's all!"
"And, to your mind, sufficient,"--said Longford--"But if it is a question of the millions chiefly, there is always the aunt herself."
Roxmouth stared--then laughed.
"The aunt!" he ejaculated--"The aunt?"
"Why not?" And Longford stole a furtive look round at the man who was his chief literary patron--"The aunt is handsome, well- preserved, not more than forty-five at most--and I should say she is a woman who could be easily led--through vanity."
"The aunt!" again murmured Roxmouth--"My dear Longford! What an appalling suggestion! Mrs. Fred as the Duchess of Ormistoune! Forbid it, Heaven!"
Then suddenly he laughed aloud.
"By Jove! It would be too utterly ridiculous! Whatever made you think of such a thing?"
"Only the prospect you yourself suggested,"--replied Longford--"That of seeing a brewer or a bone-melter in possession of Roxmouth Castle. Surely even Mrs. Fred would be preferable to that!"
With an impatient exclamation Roxmouth suddenly changed the subject; but Longford was satisfied that he had sown a seed, which might,-- time and circumstances permitting,--sprout and grow into a tangible weed or flower.
Maryllia meantime had made good her escape from the scene of Sir Morton Pippitt's 'afternoon-tea' festivity. Gently moving through the throng with that consummate grace which was her natural heritage, she consented to be introduced to the 'county' generally, smiling sweetly upon all, and talking so kindly to the Mandeville Poreham girls, that she threw them into fluttering ecstasies of delight, and caused them to declare afterwards to their mother that Miss Vancourt was the sweetest, dearest, darlingest creature they had ever met! She stood with patience while Sir Morton Pippitt, over-excited by the presence of the various 'titled' personages in his house, guffawed and blustered in her face over the 'little surprise' he had prepared for her in the unexpected appearance of Lord Roxmouth; she listened to his "Ha!-ha!-ha! My dear lady! We know a thing or two! Handsome fellow,--handsome fellow! Think of a poor old plain Knight when you are a Duchess! Ha! ha! ha! God bless my soul!"---and without a word in confirmation or denial of his blatant observations, she managed to slip gradually out of the drawing-room to the hall and from thence to the carriage drive, where she found, as she thought she would, Lord Charlemont looking tenderly into the mechanism of his motor-car, unscrewing this, peering into that, and generally hanging round the vehicle with a fatuous lover's enthusiasm.