‘_Taunt_, my dear lady. That is scarcely the word to use. I was only reminding you, as gently as I knew how, that your position is untenable, and that young men are apt to change their minds.’ ‘Lord Ilfracombe will not change his,’ replied Miss Llewellyn proudly. ‘I am aware you have done your best to try and make him do so, Mr Sterndale, but you have not succeeded.’ ‘Perhaps not. I have certainly nothing to do with his lordship’s prolonged absence from England. But, since you profess to be much attached to him, Miss Llewellyn, has it never occurred to you what a very disadvantageous thing for the earl this connection between you is?’ ‘That is for the earl to decide,’ said Miss Llewellyn. ‘You are right, and he has decided. Lord Ilfracombe is a young man who owes a duty to Society and the exalted station he occupies. His friends and family have been shocked and scandalised for the last three years to witness the outrage he has committed against the world and them, and that he has never considered the importance of founding a family to succeed him, and of leaving an heir to inherit his ancient title.’ Miss Llewellyn’s lip trembled as she replied,-- ‘All very true, I daresay, but Lord Ilfracombe prefers the present state of affairs to the opinion of the world.’ ‘Happily, I am in a position to inform you, Miss Llewellyn, that he has at last come to his senses, and determined to do his duty in that respect. In this letter,’ said Mr Sterndale, dangling one in his hand as he spoke, ‘Lord Ilfracombe desires me to break the news to you of his approaching marriage with Miss Leonora Abinger, the daughter of Sir Richard Abinger, which is fixed to come off at an early date.’ ‘It is a lie!’ cried Miss Llewellyn, as she rose to her feet and drew herself up to her full height, ‘a mean, wicked lie, which you have forged for some purpose of your own. Oh, you need not look at me like that, Mr Sterndale. I have known for long how you hate me, and how glad you would be to get rid of me. I have too much influence over Ilfracombe to suit your book. If you could persuade me to leave this house, and then convince him that I had gone off with some other man it would fit in nicely with your own little plans, wouldn’t it? But you don’t hoodwink me. I know your master too well. He never wished me to leave his protection, nor told you to forge that lie in his name. He has no intention of marrying--if he had he would have told me so himself--and not left it to an attorney to deal the worst blow that life could give me. Leave this house, sir! Till the man whom I regard as my husband returns to it there is no master here but I. Go! and take your lies with you. I will believe your statement on no authority but that of Ilfracombe himself.’